


Settled Ash

by Circechi



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Prison, Artist!Pitch, Attempted Sexual Assault, M/M, Past Drug Use, Prison AU, Prison Violence, Prisoner!Jack, Prisoner!Pitch, Threatened Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Circechi/pseuds/Circechi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch gets a new cellmate in the form of a young Jack Frost.  In this world of darkness and nightmares is there really any light at the end of the tunnel? And since when did Pitch start giving a shit about other inmates?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my Alpha Twin for always being so willing to read my fics for me and forever being so detailed and thorough in feedback - you're a star :) [Elle](http://goingthroughelle.tumblr.com)
> 
> Please do be aware of the tags, thank you.

 

 

Pitch glances up apathetically as his new cellmate enters the room, herded in by the stern looking prison guard known as Wilson.  The newcomer is just a kid, white blonde hair that could be dyed, shockingly blue eyes that currently look wide and uncertain.  His skin is pale and everything about him suggests he might be cold to the touch - like a fragile little snowflake, Pitch thinks amusedly to himself. 

"Play nice Pitch," Wilson growls warningly before slamming the door with a rattling thud of rust and metal.  Pitch rolls his eyes and snaps his book shut, making the new arrival flinch and turn to regard him warily.  After a few further moments of silence so tense that Pitch wonders if something might snap, perhaps his cellmate's nerves? He finally takes pity and decides to make the first move.

"Name?"

The white haired boy narrows his eyes at Pitch, as if he suspects somehow that the question might be a trap. 

"What is your name?" Pitch repeats, annunciating every word as clearly as possible so they hang icily in the air, not open for misinterpretation. 

"Jack," the kid replies, "Jack Frost." 

Pitch curls his thin lips into a small smile, _Jack Frost_ , the name suits the boy, all small and shivers. 

"Why are you here Jack Frost?" Pitch continues, assuming an uninterested voice, when really he feels uncharacteristically curious about this newcomer.

Jack's face hardens and Pitch can see the angry fire behind the cold surface of the boy, there's heat in this frost and isn't that just delicious?

"Because nobody believed me," Jack states miserably and finally, as if that's all he's willing to discuss regarding the matter. 

"Oh," Pitch purses his lips, trying to conceal a cruel smile, "it's so heartbreaking isn't it? Not to be believed." 

Jack looks up, narrowing his eyes in suspicion at Pitch.  "You're mocking me," he says after a thoughtful pause, his face drawn into a dark frown. 

Pitch can't help the snort that comes out of him in response to Jack's indignation.  Oh that won't last long in prison, give it a week or two and little Jack Frost will most definitely be thawed.  There's no room for indignation or hurt feelings in here, not when you're small and skinny and haven't got any powerful friends on the inside. 

"No," Pitch smiles, revealing too many of his unnaturally sharp teeth, "I'm not mocking you Jack, I'm merely agreeing with you."

"Fuck off," Jack snaps, sitting down on the spare bed on the other side of the room.  Pitch feels his uncharacteristic good humour diminish but not fully disappear as he throws a stern look towards the boy.  "You better watch where you stick that sharp tongue of yours Jack," he warns pointedly, "not everybody in this place is as forgiving as I am." 

Jack huffs but refuses to say anymore.  Soon enough it's time for lights out and Pitch figures he can satisfy more of his curiosity in the morning. 

 

****

 

 

Jack wakes up with a headache, he hadn't slept well.  The screams and crying of the other new inmates at the prison had somewhat kept him from peacefully drifting off.  He can't even begin to imagine what the fuck was happening to some of them in their cells to make them scream like that.  Occasionally he'd chanced a glance over at his own cellmate.  The large dark, shadowy man known as 'Pitch' however was always faced away from Jack, lying still as if in deep, untroubled sleep. 

Jack had almost laughed at how horrific it was, that the screams of the men seemed to be nothing more than a bedtime lullaby to this Pitch character.  Or maybe, Jack supposes, he's just learned to block it out over the time he's been here.  From the looks of his half of the cell - probably quite a long time.  The walls on Pitch's side of the room are covered in charcoal sketches of large majestic horses trampling across star filled skies.  Jack absently wonders if Pitch had been an artist on the outside, or whether it was a hobby he'd picked up in prison? 

The artwork is skilled but grotesque, almost nightmarish.  Jack quickly has to look away and shake the last dregs of his own nightmares away from himself.  It's his first day in prison and he is determined not to show any signs of weakness. 

"Rise and shine," a voice growls from the doorway, making Jack almost yelp with surprise.

"If I wanted a personal alarm clock Richards I would have ordered one."

Pitch's voice slides smoothly and sinisterly across the cell to the grinning guard on the other side of the bars.  Jack hadn't even realised that his cellmate was awake.

"See you've got yourself a new roommate at last," the guard, _Richards_ , grins maniacally as he looks over at Jack, his eyes skirting down his blanket clad body.  "Been a while hasn't it Pitch?"

Pitch murmurs something in a non-committal tone as the guard continues to stare at Jack, making him shift uncomfortably, wishing he was already changed into his thicker day jumpsuit. 

"Stop leering Richards and make yourself useful - unlock the door."

Jack looks over to where Pitch is still facing away from them, wondering how the hell he could have known what was happening. 

"Whatever you say your majesty," Richards laughs nastily, "that eager to get to breakfast and share your new shiny toy are ya?"

Jack thinks he can see a tension stiffen across Pitch's shoulders, but whether it's at the nickname or the jibe about Jack, he isn't sure. 

As the guard does eventually unlock the door, Jack kicks himself out of bed and waits for the man to enter the room.  Richards, however, simply slides the bars back an inch before nodding in Pitch's general direction and stalking off to the next cell. 

Jack uses the moment of quiet, whilst Pitch's back is still turned away from him, to get quickly dressed and use the toilet.  He feels awkward and obvious in the silence of the cell and his cheeks heat up horribly when, as soon as he finishes, the other man rolls over and begins to get ready himself.  Jack half wonders if Pitch had been facing the other way for his sake? Surely not, the guy's blatantly a total asshole and it was even him who'd implied that Jack needed to toughen up to stick it out in jail. 

 

Breakfast is a depressing affair, Jack imagines it must get grating very quickly to see the same hundred faces in the same pale grey jumpsuits every day.  However, today is his first foray into prison life and instead right now, he just feels daunted and nervous.  He quickly gets separated from Pitch in the rush to the breakfast bar, not that they'd been walking together or anything.  Jack almost jumps when a hand reaches out to touch him lightly on the shoulder. 

"Hey," a boy with reddish brown hair grins as Jack turns to face him, "you're new aren't you?"

Jack considers the other inmate for a moment, he looks to be about the same age as Jack but the colour of his jumpsuit indicates that he's not a newcomer to the prison. 

"Yeah," Jack replies after a moment, "arrived last night."

"Oh," the boy winces, "it was a rough night, you weren't one of the screamers were you?"

Jack raises his eyebrows in surprise at the other boy's bluntness and shakes his head in reply. 

"That's good," the boy shivers, "don't think everybody made it to breakfast this morning, saw a few being taken down to Medical." 

Jack tries to school his expression into one of casual interest, when really every instinct he has is screaming inside his body to run and just get _out_ of this place.

"I'm Jamie by the way," the boy announces with a gap-toothed grin, "how about you?"

"Jack," Jack replies.

"Cool, well you can sit with me if you like Jack," Jamie shrugs, but the look on his face is hopeful.  "I only got here about a month ago but I can tell you what you should _definitely_ avoid on the breakfast menu." 

Jack snorts softly before nodding, "Yeah, sure thanks."

 

"Who are you roomed with then?" Jamie asks as they settle down at a far corner table, Jack trying to ignore the way the other prisoners track his movements. 

"Oh ignore them," Jamie had whispered, "you're just something new, that's all." 

"Some guy called Pitch," Jack replies, scrunching up his face in disgust as he attempts to take a spoonful of the oatmeal but finds it unwilling to relinquish his spoon back to him. 

"No way," Jamie hisses, making Jack look up in questioning surprise.

"What?" Jack asks defensively, feeling anxious.  "He got a reputation or something?"

"Or something," Jamie scoffs, ripping a bite of a dry hunk of bread with his teeth.  "Guy's insane, loaded and insane." 

"Loaded?" Jack frowns, wondering what that's got to do with anything. 

"He's the Nightmare King!" Jamie explains, rolling his eyes at Jack's blank expression.  "Geez dude - don't you ever read comic books? He's literally one of the biggest names in horror comics, he does all his work here and sends it off to his publishing house on the outside under the pseudonym The Nightmare King." 

"Oh," Jack replies lamely, not quite sure what to make of that.

"Well that's not the important bit anyway," Jamie says quickly, noticing Jack's confusion.  "He's a bit of a shady character."

"I hadn't noticed," Jack responds drily, giving up altogether on his oatmeal and turning to his...milk?...white paint?....Jack really can't be sure.

"No," Jamie shakes his head insistently, "like _really_ shady.  Lots of the other prisoners are afraid of him but I'm not quite sure what for.  I mean there are rumours about him but not many guys still around that remember."

"Rumours?" Jacks asks, his interest finally having been peaked, morbid curiosity fractionally overtaking his fear. 

"There's a reason they haven't roomed anyone with him for over a year," Jamie states grimly with a serious face.

"Bad hygiene habits?" Jack offers sarcastically, but he can feel his mouth starting to go dry.

"Yeah," Jamie laughs mirthlessly, "tends to leave dead bodies over the place."

Jack drops the glass he's holding, causing it to thump and then subsequently roll impotently around his breakfast tray.  Thankfully it had been empty by that point and neither him nor Jamie had flinched too hard. 

"Jesus," Jamie groans, catching his breath, "try not to draw _too_ much attention to us won't you?"

Jack bites his lip apologetically, glancing round the prison canteen to see if anyone's looking their way.  Disturbingly, there are quite a number of eyes still fixed on them, one pair - eerily light and gleaming belong to Pitch himself. 

 

***

 

After breakfast Jack is herded to his first class - wood-shop. 

"Bet you didn't think it would be like being back at school did you?" Jamie grins as Jack notices him already sat down at a bench in the classroom.  Jamie beckons him over before giving him a rueful smile, "Hey, I'm sorry if I freaked you out at breakfast, I tend to have no brain to mouth filter." 

"It's okay," Jack mumbles, picking up a screwdriver and frowning at it.

"Don't pick up the tools without permission," Jamie hisses, making Jack fumble with the handle and nearly drop that too, causing another scene.  Jack hastily stows the tool back on the work surface as the instructor enters the room with a clipboard, a register presumably attached to it, as moments later he begins calling out names. 

When he gets to 'Frost', a few wolf whistles go up around the room.  Jack's cheeks heat up horribly and he tries to sink down in his chair to make himself invisible.

"It's just something they do to newcomers," Jamie explains quickly, nudging Jack's shoulder in support.

"Not all newcomers," a voice behind them growls, "just ones that look like him."

Jack swivels round angrily to see the owner of the voice, it's a strange accent, something caught between Australian and American. 

"Stop it Bunny," Jamie chides, "you're scaring him."

"Good," the man grunts, "he should be scared."

"What kind of a name is 'Bunny'?" Jack asks huffily as he regards the tall, broad shouldered man, wondering if the nickname was derived from his rather prominent front teeth? Other than that, the man is quite handsome with greying brown hair and green eyes.

"What kind of name is Frost?" the man retorts immediately, making Jack glower at him.

"It's 'Jack'," Jack replies haughtily, guessing he's probably safe enough to banter with this guy, judging by Jamie's look of distinct amusement. 

"Well Jack, there ain't any 'Jills' in here if you get my meaning?" Bunny replies tautly, causing the grin to slip off of Jamie's face as the other boy pulls Jack back round to face the front of the class.

"Ignore him," Jamie whispers, leaning in to Jack a moment later, "he hasn't got a filter either and he just means well.  He's been here quite a while."

"I see," Jack nods grimly, Bunny's words still shivering through him. 

"That's Tooth over there," Jamie says, gesturing to a highly effeminate Asian man who sends them a friendly wave.  "Preferred pronoun _she_ ," Jamie explains, "Bastards wouldn't let her transfer to a female prison though." 

"Who else is okay?" Jack asks quickly, noting down the names 'Bunny' and 'Tooth' as people he could possibly talk to in the future who hopefully won't try to shiv him. 

"Well I guess North is alright," Jamie shrugs, "big, crazy, bearded, Russian dude that he is, and then of course there's Sandy, he doesn't say much but he's pretty friendly." 

"Alright," Jack nods thoughtfully, making a mental catalogue of the new names, like he's collecting ally cards in some sort of game.  You never know what you might need to survive in prison he guesses.        

"There are plenty of guys you want to watch out for though," Jamie shrugs uncomfortably, "honestly not trying to freak you out again - but just...be careful okay?"

Jack swallows hard before nodding and finally beginning to pay attention to the wood-shop lesson. 

 

It's not until the end of the day and he comes back to his cell that Jack finally sees Pitch again. 

"You weren't outside?" Jack asks, regretting his own curiosity immediately as Pitch looks up from his book with a sinister smirk.

"Miss me Frost?" Pitch drawls, closing the book shut with a snap and placing it carefully on his bedside table.  Jack reddens and walks over to his own side of the room, refusing to play into Pitch's baiting comment. 

"I was on library duty," Pitch sighs, "it's far more preferable to being outside in the freezing cold."

"I like the cold," Jack says before he can stop himself.  Just why the hell is he so eager to enter into a conversation with this man who probably killed and ate his last cellmates? God knows what crime Pitch is even in here for.  The guy looks like evil incarnate, handsome and haughty with a prominent brow and chiselled chin. 

Pitch's jet black hair spikes unevenly across his face, framing his angular features in shadows.  There's something eerily feral about his smile, Jack half wonders if he's deliberately filed his teeth into points or if they're naturally that way?

"It's alright if there's a good way to warm up afterwards," Pitch replies lazily as he distractedly inspects his fingernails.  Jack tenses, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, although he's not quite sure what at.  He turns away from Pitch and begins to strip, readying himself for bed.  The back of his neck tingles as he feels someone watching him.  Jack snaps his head round frustratedly but blinks in surprise when he now sees that Pitch is sat facing the wall opposite to Jack, scribbling at a page in his sketch book.  Pitch's long slender fingers move so nimbly and quickly across the paper, the charcoal held loosely between thumb and forefingers as it smudges on the pale white in hues of black and grey.  Pitch's hand pauses momentarily and Jack blushes, quickly looking away when he realises it's now _him_ that's staring.

"Did you have a good first day at school?" Pitch asks as Jack finishes up, throwing his sheets back ready to climb in.  He feels exhausted, despite not having done much during the day. 

Jack pulls a face at Pitch's way of phrasing the question but the older man simply laughs, "I was merely interested as to whether you made any playmates?"

Jack can hear a well disguised but still present vein of interest in Pitch's question.  The other prisoner seems to genuinely want to know who Jack's been talking to, although Jack doubts it's out of any concern for him hanging around with the 'wrong' people.

"Yeah I've made some friends," Jack replies firmly, jutting his chin out.  It's a half truth but at least now if Pitch _is_ thinking of doing anything to Jack, at least he might consider the possibility of repercussions from allies that Jack 'might' have made.

"Oh?" Pitch sounds amused now and it only further serves to rile Jack up.  "Are you going to be making the friendship bracelets soon?"

Jack huffs but he feels too tired to get truly angry, "Whatever."

"Names?"

Jack knows what Pitch is asking but he's not sure he wants to play that card just yet.  What if his new 'friends' don't inspire the fear in Pitch that he's hoping for? However Jack guesses Pitch will figure it out soon enough anyway, so he lists them quickly, "Jamie, Bunny, Tooth, North and Sandy."  In truth he'd only met the last two briefly in the outdoor exercise area after lunch.  North had seemed large and intimidating enough to be worthy of a name drop. 

Jack's hopes are crushed however when Pitch lets out a derisive snort, "Oh god - that ragtag bunch? I mean, I suppose I can see why that Jamie creature sidled up to you, probably recognizes a kindred spirit and a chance to shine the unwanted limelight onto someone else so to speak."

"Shut up," Jack snaps, "he's not like that."

"Forgive me," Pitch says coldly, "I had no idea you knew him so well already." 

"I don't," Jack responds irritably, sitting down on the bed before his shaking leg muscles give out.  He feels like he's spent the day running marathons backwards.  "I just know that not every guy inside here is a total creep or a psycho."

"Oh you _know_ that do you?" Pitch asks, his voice still icy and emotionless.  "Well then please don't let me be the one to disillusion you.  As for the others - Bunny's an idiot with a self-aggrandising complex, Tooth only cares about herself, North is a drunken old fool and Sandy?" Pitch lets out a snake-like hiss.

Interesting, Jack things to himself, perhaps Pitch considers Sandy as somewhat of an enemy? The information might be useful to him later on.  Especially considering that Sandy is still very much alive and well so obviously Pitch hasn't been able to do away with him for whatever reason. 

"You're a naive fool if you think those _friends_ can keep you safe in here," Pitch says nastily, the air sucking in through his fang-like teeth.  Jack keeps silent but the statement still cuts through him like a knife.  The horrendous realisation that he's terrified washes through him like a nauseating tsunami. 

"I can keep myself safe," Jack mutters, throwing the blankets over himself, before throwing them off again in frustration.  He doesn't know whether he feels too hot or not, even though it's the middle of winter and there's ice on the ground. 

This time Pitch doesn't reply but as Jack chances a look over in the other man's direction and the lights click off with a loud buzz, the last thing he sees is a small sad smile on Pitch's shadowed face.

Jack wants nothing more than to charge over there right now and punch that smile off of Pitch's face.  He doesn't know why, but for some reason the smile upsets him more than any remark would have.  In the end however he hears another wailing scream from somewhere down the corridor and instantly changes his mind. 

 

 

***

 

Pitch wakes up early, as he always does.  He likes this time of day, when it's finally quiet in the prison and he can get some work done.  He flips open his sketch pad to the latest page when a small slender figure is being pinned down by tendrils of darkness.  The image doesn't quite fit in with the current narrative he's working on, but it still feels important enough to finish.  Maybe he'll be inspired by it later for a different graphic novel.

He hears a small whimper from the other side of the room and immediately snaps his head up.  Jack Frost is still asleep, although he's evidently dreaming as his face is wrinkled into a frown and his lips are moving wordlessly. 

 _Probably a nightmare_ , Pitch guesses apathetically as he stares back down at his work then back up at Jack.  The boy is quite beautiful, no wonder he'd turned so many heads in the canteen yesterday.  Pitch had watched them all day, circling the boy like jackals readying to pounce.  The only question was - who would pounce first?

Not that Pitch particularly cared, he'd never cared about the fates of other inmates before, not even when he'd perhaps been in a position to do something about it.  Sure, Pitch has power in the prison, he's feared well enough and his reputation born from years of living in the shadows certainly only enhances his facade.  But then he's never been one to become particularly emotionally invested in the lives of others.  Suffering is a natural consequence of an environment like this, just as nightmares are of the dark. 

Jack makes another sound and Pitch pauses as he absently realises he's been sketching the boy's own features onto his previously faceless drawing.  Jack's skin is so pale that the porcelain white of the drawing paper serves well enough for his complexion.  His hair is several shades paler than that, almost silver in its hues. 

Suddenly the door slides open and Pitch curses himself as he must have lingered longer in distractions than he'd realised.

"Time for breakfast," Wilson states woodenly, looking curiously at Pitch and then at Jack.

"He's still in one piece," Pitch smiles mirthlessly as he reads the prison guard's thoughts.  After his last cellmate experience they probably half expect him to turn the boy inside out by morning and be using his intestines as a skipping rope. 

That would make a good page in the comic Pitch thinks to himself as Jack begins to stir with a groan and then a hiss of surprise as one of his bare feet snakes out of the covers to connect with the freezing metal frame of the bed. 

The sound is quite delightful as it echoes around the cell, Pitch frowns however when his enjoyment is interrupted by the sounds of a fight breaking out somewhere along the corridor.  Shouts and yells accompanied by dramatic thuds ricochet between the sickly yellow painted concrete walls.  Pitch remembers that it's a Thursday, Thursdays are always the worst days in the prison, what with movie night that evening and a weekly basketball game occurring in the afternoon - tensions and adrenaline are always running high. 

"What's that?" Jack groans sleepily, rising up from his bed and rubbing awkwardly at his sleep crumpled face.  There are red marks etched into his otherwise flawless skin from where he's pressed himself against the creases of his pillow. 

"Just 'guys' not being total creeps or psychos," Pitch replies dryly, pleased at the way Jack scowls at him.  The kid doesn't seem to be afraid of Pitch, despite probably already having heard the stories about him.  Especially if he's hanging out with the likes of Sandy.  Sandy arrived in the prison at pretty much the same time Pitch had and they'd never gotten on, not since day one.  Pitch saw Sandy as an arrogant buffoon and Sandy saw Pitch as...well probably evil. 

Pitch was what he needed to be. 

 

"Hey," Jack calls out softly as Pitch quickly dresses and heads towards the door.  "Should - should we go out there? I mean if there's a fight or something..."

Pitch turns back to Jack, about to snort dismissively and tease the boy for being scared but then he sees the widened blue eyes, the genuine unsurety in them and something stirs in the deep chasms of Pitch's hollowed chest. 

"The fight's over," he states bluntly, confused at himself for not taking the opportunity to mock Jack.  Perhaps his mind had simply realised it would be too dissatisfyingly easy? Like taking candy from a baby.

"Oh," Jack states, his pale cheeks flushing, however the electric light inside the prison has the effect of making the blush seem more bluish in tone than red.

"Surely you must be eager to get to breakfast and meet up with all your new friends?" Pitch enquires with a smirk. 

"Sure, whatever," Jack replies, rubbing the back of his neck and flushing further.  Pitch pauses again, he wonders if Jack had exaggerated how many people he now knew at the prison? But why would he want to show off to Pitch....unless....unless Jack _was_ afraid of Pitch and had been trying to warn him to stay away? 

Pitch cocks his head and eyes the boy with renewed interest, the cocky bravado and facade - deep inside the kid is just as shit scared as anyone else would be in his situation.

 _He should be scared_ , Pitch thinks grimly to himself, it won't be long before one of the jackals will want to take a bite.

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

 

It takes one week, a one week period of 'settling in grace' before someone tries to take a bite out of Jack Frost.  Like piranhas they circle round the literal jailbait in ever decreasing circles. 

Jack's walking down the long corridor to the TV room when he sees a cluster of men up ahead, some of them are leaning against the wall, all chatting and laughing with each other.  They seem harmless enough but a couple of the guys Jack recognizes as men that Jamie warned him to stay away from. 

Before he can quietly back away, however, one of the men spots Jack, quickly nudging the others and jerking his head in Jack's direction. 

"Hey blondie," one of the men calls out in a hoarse rasping voice, normally whenever Jack sees him outside he's smoking.  He does it blatantly in front of the guards with no fear or reprimand so Jack figures he's cut some kind of deal.  Jack tenses but steels his nerves as he continues to steadily walk towards them.  The TV common room is only just around the corner after all and surely the guards will hear him if something happens?

The memory of the guards overlooking Samuel's smoking doesn't inspire him with confidence however as he approaches the men.  Samuel, Leo, Taylor and then two others that Jack doesn't yet know the names of, all of them keep their eyes tracking his movements up the hallway. 

"You just get bumped up from Juvie?" Taylor asks, narrowing his eyes as if he's genuinely considering the possibility.  Jack shakes his head, by the time he'd been convicted he'd just been old enough to send to a regular prison. 

"He looks like a girl," one of the nameless men growls before laughing roughly with the others.

"Maybe Tooth's been giving him some tips," Samuel mutters, his voice quiet and menacing, "I've seen them around together along with that other pretty boy."

 _Jamie_ , Jack thinks numbly whilst considering how fast he'd have to sprint to get past them without any of them catching him. 

"Well now there's a prison gang if ever I saw one," snorts Leo, "they'll be snapping their fingers and singing musicals at us any minute now!" This earns another peal of raucous laughter from the group.  Jack tries to smile along with them, the joke may be in poor taste but it's not overtly threatening.  He nods respectfully to the nearest man to him who happens to be the other one that Jack doesn't know the name of, before attempting to squeeze past the larger men.  If he turns around now and goes the other way it will just be an invitation for them to hound him more. 

"Stay a while," Samuel rasps, reaching out to put his hand flat on Jack's chest, effectively halting him.  Jack freezes as Samuel's hand lingers only one layer of fabric away from his skin.  Eventually, however, the other man's fingers draw back with one last stroking touch that makes goosepimples bubble up across the back of Jack's neck.

"I - I'm meeting a friend in the TV room," Jack states more confidently than he feels.  It's a lie, he's not really arranged to meet anyone.  He's not even sure there'll be anybody in there he knows.   

"How about you make some new friends?" Leo suggests gruffly before raising his eyebrows at Samuel as if they were in silent conversation. 

"I should go," Jack protests, pushing harder now to make his way past the men.  However, again, he is stopped - this time by a gripping hand on his upper left arm.  Jack looks down to see blackened fingernails, his eyes trail up the dirtied sleeve of a grey jumpsuit until he sees the hand belongs to Taylor. 

"You're new," Taylor states woodenly, "we want to show you how things work around here." 

Jack has the nasty suspicion that he really _doesn't_ want to know how things 'work' around the prison, least of all have these men be the ones to explain it to him.   

"Scrawny little thing aren't you?" Leo hisses suddenly, reaching out to pinch Jack's chin between his fingers and turn his head from left to right.  The action is surprisingly painful as Leo's own unclipped fingernails dig into Jack's skin. 

"Needs more protein," Samuel suggests, leering at Jack. 

Jack shudders violently and the movement is enough to throw Taylor's grip off of his arm.  Jack uses the opportunity to take several quick steps back down the hallway away from the men, the same way he had originally approached them.  For a second Jack's blood freezes in fear as the men's faces twist into nasty expressions and they begin to stalk after him. 

A few moments later however, Jack gasps as he backs into something solid and warm.  Jack spins round, ready to defend himself when he finds himself staring up at the unreadable face of his cellmate Pitch.

"Jack," Pitch notes in his silky voice as if he'd been looking for the younger man all along, "I thought we were meeting in the T.V. room?"

Jack flounders for a moment at the blatant act, before glancing back at the other men.  They've all stopped dead in their tracks, their coarse faces now morphed into expressions of seeming annoyance. 

 _They're afraid of Pitch_ , Jack thinks triumphantly to himself as he looks back to his cellmate and musters the last of his energy to shrug casually.  "Yeah," Jack replies, hating the way his voice cracks incriminatingly, "I was on my way there now." 

"Well you appear to be going in the wrong direction," Pitch notes dryly, although his eyes have now slipped behind Jack and are firmly focussed on the other men.  "It's quite understandable though, all newcomers tend to get a little lost in these halls.  There are meant to be guards everywhere but the species seems to be under threat of extinction what with the way their numbers are dropping."  Pitch's eyes narrow and Jack follows their gaze over to Samuel, there's something accusatory in that glare, something knowing.  Jack wonders if Pitch is referring to all of Samuel's dodgy deals with the prison guards?

"Let me guide you," Pitch adds without missing a beat, his own long fingers now settling on Jack's shoulder, the grip is strong enough to lead Jack forwards, forcing his unwilling, traitorous legs to stumble back towards the men, however unlike Taylor's grip - it doesn't hurt.  Pitch's touch more just feels hot, like it's burning a brand into Jack's goosepimpled flesh. 

"The Nightmare King finally taken a consort?" one of the men asks nastily.

Pitch doesn't answer, at least not with words, however the flicker of his pale eyes towards the man is enough to shut everybody up as he rounds the corner along with Jack and they enter the TV room together. 

 

"Jack?"

Jack blinks and lets his eyes readjust to the natural daylight filtering through the room's high windows.  He can see Jamie approaching him cautiously, evidently having spotted Pitch by his side.

"You alright?" Jamie asks tentatively, although it stings Jack somewhat that the other boy seems to be too afraid to draw near to them. 

"I'm fine," Jack snaps, shrugging Pitch's hand off of him and feeling a rush of shame coarse through him.  It had only been one week and already he'd demonstrated to Pitch that he was unable to look after himself, the one thing he'd claimed he _could_ do. 

"Leave him alone Pitch," a thick accented voice cuts through the tension like an unyielding machete.  Jack looks to his left, surprised to see North striding towards them, his beard sporting the bright orange crumbs of some kind of snack.  "He's just a kid," North adds when Pitch remains standing by Jack.

"Look at you North," Pitch hisses, the tone of his voice completely changed from the one he normally addresses Jack with in the cell.  The older, shadowed man gestures brusquely to Tooth, Jamie and then Jack.  "Appointing yourself the patron saint of young, vulnerable newcomers," Pitch bares his teeth in a nasty smile, "perhaps we should start calling you Santa Whores?"

North lets out a cry of outrage before he flings himself towards Pitch, swinging his large hairy fist in a blow that Pitch easily dodges.  "Here's a hint," Pitch snaps, "lay off the Vodka and you might be able to get it up and rid yourself of some of that frustration you channel into being an insufferable prick."

"Stop!" Jack shouts suddenly, and much to his surprise both of the larger men do stop trying to seemingly kill each other and instead turn to face him.  That had really only been as far as Jack's plan had gone, so he stares at them blankly for a moment before Pitch rolls his eyes and makes a tutting sound, turning away to disappear over to the other side of the room.  

"Has he been hurting you?" North asks, eyeing Jack up and down suspiciously as if expecting to find a limb missing. 

"No," Jack replied truthfully, "he hasn't bothered me at all." 

Jack wants to tell his friends about how Pitch effectively saved him out in the corridor but something tells him they won't be so impressed.  Jack's not even sure Pitch did  it on purpose, I mean if he just sees Jack as some kind of naive weak kid destined to be used - then why would Pitch even care about what happened to him?

 

 

****

 

 

Pitch forgoes his usual spot in the library after lunch a few days later, instead venturing outside to the main yard area where the other inmates are gathered.  He quickly spots the mop of white hair that belongs to his young cellmate.  Pitch settles himself on one of the shadier benches and proceeds to take out his sketchpad, whilst he's out here he might as well do some life studies. 

"You're staring," a high and sing-song voice whispers into Pitch's ear suddenly.  Pitch, however, merely sighs rather than flinches.  He'd noticed Onyx approach the bench from out of the shadows, slipping in next to him and smiling.  Onyx's dark skin is highlighted beautifully by the winter sun today, her mane of black hair tucked firmly behind her ears with loose curled strands attempting to break free.  Unlike Tooth, Onyx had never applied to be transferred to an all female prison, she was more than capable of handling herself here, and a friendship with Pitch had served them both well over the years. 

"If I want to draw them I have to look at them," Pitch mutters irritably as his charcoal splinters for the fourth time that day.  He should know better than to trade with Richards for the cheap stuff, he'll go through one of the other guards next time, one with better sources on the outside. 

"' _Them_ '?" Onyx asks bemused.  "Don't you mean ' _him_ '?"

Pitch follows her gesture over to where Jack Frost is tipping his head back, laughing at something his companion Jamie has just said.  The exposed column of his throat draws a few stares from around the yard and something in Pitch's chest clenches briefly.

"He's my cellmate," Pitch shrugs in explanation as to why he would be paying more attention to Jack than anyone else. 

"So I heard," Onyx sighs, "probably won't last long though will he?"

"Don't be so sure," Pitch sniffs, "he's managed to get North to adopt him."

"That's all very well," Onyx laughs cruelly, "but what about when the bearded guardian isn't around? What about when there's a new delivery of drink?" 

"Jamie seems to have survived so far," Pitch retorts, wondering why he's being so defensive of the kid's chances?

"Barely," Onyx mutters, "and that's only because he rooms with Sandy."

"What are you implying?" Pitch narrows his eyes at Onyx.  "I'm not going to touch the boy."

"Oh no," Onyx laughs, "I forgot that the _king_ is far too high and mighty for that!"

Pitch huffs but lets himself smile at Onyx, taking in her beauty for a while.  "You should let me draw you again," Pitch suggests but Onyx snorts and shakes her head.  "You've already made me a character in one of your comics Pitch, I feel you need a new muse." 

She laughs again before slipping up off of the bench and bowing sarcastically deep to excuse herself.  Pitch rolls his eyes but can't help the dark rumble of a chuckle he lets out. 

 

 

***

 

"He keeps staring at you."

Jack turns to Jamie and then looks in the direction his friend is nodding.  He flushes with surprise when he sees Pitch ensconced on one of the far benches, his large shadowed form is hunched over a sketchbook.  Despite his posture and activity Pitch manages to make himself look as menacing as ever. 

"I think he's just drawing," Jack shrugs, trying to sound unaffected. 

"Either way, it's creepy," Jamie grimaces. 

"There are creepier guys here," Jack states woodenly, recalling how just that morning some of the men had tried to get him to sit with them by making completely un-enticing lewd remarks about his figure and his mouth.  At least Pitch had never done anything like that, for the most part he just seemed to leave Jack alone. 

"What are they discussing so secretively?" Jack asks instead, changing the topic of conversation as he points over at Bunny, North, Tooth and Sandy who seem to be clustered round the back of the baseball court.

"Don't point!" Jamie hisses, slapping Jack's hand down in a hurry.  "The guards will see."

"So they're doing something wrong then?" Jack frowns, he can see that Bunny and North are having some kind of heated discussion.

"You could say that," Jamie laughs, but it sounds strained.  "I'm not meant to discuss it with anyone."

"Come on," Jack sighs, "who the hell am I going to tell?"

Jamie chews his lip unsurely for a moment before grabbing Jack's sleeve and dragging him behind one of the trees.  "Alright but you _mustn't_ breathe a word of this okay?"

"Okay," Jack nods, suddenly feeling nervous.  If it's something that's going to get them in trouble with the guards then that's the last thing he needs.

"It's just," Jamie murmurs, his eyes still flitting around in a paranoid fashion to make sure nobody's listening to them.  "Well, Bunny and North reckon they've found a way out of here."

"What?" Jack states, his voice monotone from the heavy state of shock.

"I'm being for real!" Jamie nods vociferously, his eyes widening as if he's worried Jack won't believe him.  "There's an old sewage system under the prison, Bunny used to work in mining and so he's got a really good knowledge of tunnelling and stuff like that.  Anyway him and North think they can construct a kind of offshoot from one of the pre-existing waterways and have it come up on the other side of the fences." 

"You've got to be kidding me," Jack murmurs in disbelief, "that sounds insane."

"I know," Jamie shrugs, "but honestly, they took me down there last month and it looks like it actually could happen!"

"But if they get caught...." Jack shakes his head. 

"We all know the risks," Jamie snaps, "but we figured we'd chance it rather than staying in this hell hole for the rest of our lives." 

"You're here on life sentences?" Jack raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Close enough," Jamie states grimly, "and don't act like you're shocked - I've seen the lifers' list and I know your name's on there too." 

"I-" Jack flounders, he had no idea that such a list was even accessible to the other prisoners.  "I didn't _do_ anything," Jack exclaims, horrified that he feels close to tears.  "It wasn't true, no one believed me -"

"Shh," Jamie presses his finger to Jack's lips, "stop shouting or you'll attract attention.  Look, none of us care okay? You seem alright and if you say you're innocent then I'm sure you are." 

"I don't want anything to do with this," Jack says hurriedly. 

"Okay," Jamie retracts his hand, looking somewhat disappointed, "that's your decision - but just don't tell anyone okay?"

Jack nods in agreement before trudging back out from the tree.  There's frost on the ground that cracks loudly as he steps on it and he absently wonders if the frozen earth makes it even harder to dig an escape tunnel?

"By the way," Jamie calls out after him, there's an awkwardness and uncertainty to his voice.  "Seeing as you're here for the long haul, you should probably think about being seen with Pitch in public more.  If you're sure he's not actually going to want anything in return that is."

Jack furrows his brow at his friend in confusion and Jamie lets out a weary sigh as if he really doesn't want to have to explain further.

"Just if people think you belong to him they might leave you alone more okay?"

Jack reels back from Jamie with a horrified expression, "I don't _belong_ to anyone!"

"I know that!" Jamie throws his hands up frustratedly, "But just in case - in the future if North isn't around, you might want to consider other options." 

Jack feels sick as the bell goes off to signal the end of outside break, he walks slowly back towards his cell, mulling Jamie's words over in his mind  and tracking all the foolish mistakes he's made in his life that have led him to this dismal point. 

 

***

 

Jack's lying in bed just after lights out, he can hear the rustled breathing of Pitch across the room and vaguely make out the silhouetted rise and fall of the other man's chest. 

"If..." Jack begins, tensing at saying something out loud, but it's too late, he's already caught Pitch's attention as the breathing pattern changes and the large shadow shifts slightly. 

"If," Jack continues, gathering all his confidence, "you got out of here somehow - where would you go?"

"That depends," Pitch replies without missing a beat, making Jack's nerves settle slightly.  "Have I been released or have I escaped?"

Jack freezes for a moment, wondering if Pitch had somehow guessed the nature of his and Jamie's earlier conversation. 

"I -" Jack starts,  not sure what to say.

"Only if I had been released I could go anywhere, but if I had escaped I would have to be more prudent in my choices no?" Pitch continues as if they were discussing the weather. 

"Yeah sure," Jack agrees, "Um - escaped them." 

"Somewhere dark," Pitch replies with a tone of mirth in his voice, "it's harder to hide in the light.  And potentially somewhere with distinctly lacking extradition laws."

Jack can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him and even Pitch lets out a pleased chuckle. 

"Why are the other prisoners afraid of you?" Jack asks suddenly, realising he's been itching to know the answer.  Pitch is silent for a moment and Jack worries that he's gone too far. 

"People are always afraid of the unknown," Pitch answers cryptically. 

"So what,-" Jack huffs, "you're trying to tell me that you just spend all your time building up this air of mystery?"

"Mmm," Pitch hums in agreement, "I even went through a phase of disappearing and reappearing around the prison using magician's smoke bombs but it ended up causing me to do far too much laundry." 

Jack laughs loudly, surprising himself with the sound as it echoes around their cell.  Perhaps Pitch is as surprised as Jack is because he remains quiet for a few more minutes. 

"Is it true you write and draw horror comics?" Jack asks, finally collecting himself. 

"That much is true," Pitch sighs, "although it's something I started _after_ having been incarcerated."

"Why horror?" Jack chuckles, not expecting Pitch to hum in thought, evidently taking the question seriously. 

"I suppose you draw inspiration from what's around you," Pitch shrugs, Jack catches the recognizable movement in the shadowed darkness.  "Plus when you're in prison, you need to hold on to something that they can't take away from you, something - a part of you that they can't kill or destroy."

"I would have thought most people would opt for 'hope'," Jack muses teasingly, rolling over in the bed so he's facing Pitch's outline. 

"Hope can die," Pitch snaps back, although he doesn't sound angry - just certain.  "But fear? You can't kill fear, Jack." 

Jack shudders as the room seems to grow a shade darker.  "You sound mad," he tells Pitch, pretty sure now that the other man won't suddenly turn on him. 

Predictably, Pitch laughs at Jack's statement.  It's a strangely joyful and rumbling laugh although distinctly more controlled than Jack's previous outburst. 

"Well I _am_ evil don't you know?" Pitch drawls nonchalantly.  "Surely your little 'friends' have warned you about me already?" 

"Not really," Jack sniffs, trying not to feed Pitch's already sizeable sense of egoism.  "They just don't think I should trust you." 

"Oh you really shouldn't," Pitch hisses.  Jack supposes it's meant to sound like a threat, but it just comes off as bitter, as if Pitch is angry about something. 

"But then," Jack pauses, licking his dry and winter-chapped lips, "if I was to stay away from everybody that they warned me about, I'd probably just have to hide in the corner of this cell and never go out." 

"Well we can't have that can we Jack?" Pitch smiles widely.  Jack knows he's smiling because a faint light is reflecting off the pearled white of his sharp exposed teeth.  "You're a young boy, full of energy and _life_ \- something like you shouldn't be cooped up in a cage." 

"Tell me about it," Jack huffs, ignoring the suggestiveness of Pitch's tone and instead turning to frown at the steel bars of the cell doors. 

"Although," Pitch hums, "some bars are there to keep people out as much as keep others in." 

"I get it," Jack rolls his eyes, "the prison is a dangerous place.  I _really_ don't need another warning lecture about how I'm a young, innocent flower that everybody wants to pluck okay?"

Jack swears under his breath as he realises what he's just said, his face heats up horribly and his heart starts to thump a humiliating beat in his chest.  To both his relief and chagrin, Pitch simply laughs again, although it seems more genuine this time - the sound is lighter and less like it's been rehearsed. 

"I think your sense of humour and fun is what you are going to have to cling to in here Jack," Pitch sighs after a while, he sounds both serious and sad as if he's telling Jack something genuinely important. 

"I don't want to be in here forever," Jack admits suddenly as an ache in his chest pangs through his ribs, causing him to sit up and lean against the cold concrete wall, hugging his knees. 

"Who does?" Pitch asks grimly before turning to face his own wall and signalling that the conversation has ended.

It takes a few more hours for Jack to convince himself to fall asleep. 

 

 

***

 

 

Pitch raises his eyebrows in curious interest as two men slide in opposite him at the breakfast table the next day.  He knows their names, knows that they are deep in the prison gang system, their tattoos spell out their affiliations and also their ranks. 

"Gentlemen," Pitch drawls as they look up to face him.  There's a shadow of mistrust and suspicion in their expressions.  It serves at least to reassure Pitch that he does still wield the power of fear within the prison.  These grown male gang leaders know to be nervous around him, even if little Jack Frost does not. 

"We heard a rumour from Samuel that your new cellmate is something of a friend of yours?" one of the men asks roughly as he rips the foil top off of his strawberry yoghurt.  Pitch can't quite suppress his smile at the situation, if it weren't for the grey jumpsuits and the surrounding guards then the whole thing would be oh so very high school.

"Did you?" Pitch says quietly, neither confirming nor dismissing the rumour outright, he's not sure which course of action would be most beneficial to him right now.   

"Cut the crap Pitch," the other man rasps and to his credit he only recoils slightly when Pitch flicks his razor sharp glare to him.  Pitch knows he's got a good glare, his eyes are unnaturally yellow and his jet black pupils are puddles of ink against the moonlit irises. 

"What do you want for him?" the first man asks lazily, licking the back of his yoghurt lid in a way that makes Pitch grimace in disgust. 

"Well I'd like him to have better manners," Pitch shrugs, "but other than that he's actually quite housetrained."

The second man growls angrily and Pitch can see his biceps tensing under the taut grey material.  Pitch smiles widely, knowing the gesture will distract them as he reaches down to slip out a craft knife blade from where it's been sewn into his own sleeve.

"We don't want a fight Pitch," the first man says firmly, as if sensing the change in the air.  "Nobody wants to get on your bad side, we just want to know what _you_ want." 

"New socks and a sense of purpose?" Pitch suggests, having slightly too much fun in winding the second man up.  He looks like he's due to develop an eye twitch any moment now. 

"You may be a dangerous man Pitch but you can't keep the whole fucking prison away from your toy boy," the first prisoner snarls, obviously now close to losing his temper as well.  "You know as well as anyone here that you'll have to make _some_ deals." 

"Business hours are 1 am to 2am, Tuesday the 14th of next year," Pitch replies bitingly, not letting his smirk slip, "come back then." 

"You're playing a dangerous game Pitch," the man retorts, sounding frustrated and fed up.  "You take something like that all for yourself and refuse to share it? You're gonna be in for a whole world of hurt."

"So what you're saying," Pitch pauses, stroking his chin, "is that I should allow a few mutts in first to act as guard dogs against all the others?"

"Now you're talking sense," the man smiles nastily, disposing of his plastic spoon and tipping his yoghurt pot up to drain the last dregs of artificial dairy sludge. 

Pitch glances over to where Jack is sat with Jamie and Tooth, the trio are attracting more hungry looks than the breakfast buffet.  Jack, however, is characteristically oblivious.  Instead the boy appears to be attempting to build some sort of tower out of the sugar packets.  Tooth and Jamie are taking it in turns to remove one without the whole thing falling down. 

"So we have a deal?" the first man asks, jerking Pitch's attention back to him.

"Traditionally both parties get something out a deal," Pitch huffs, feeling annoyed with himself for seemingly no discernible reason.  The man chuckles, evidently taking Pitch's comment as a positive sign. 

"We can get you Sand?" the man offers with a knowing smirk, causing Pitch to bare his teeth in a snarl. 

_Sand_

It was the prison name for a certain drug that Pitch had once been addicted to.  However Pitch's vice hadn't simply been any old brand of Sand but rather...

"We can get you _Black_ Sand," the man continues quickly.  Pitch feels a flare of anger, the man must have known to save that titbit till last, to make sure he'd really hooked Pitch's attention.  Pitch wonders how the hell these men heard about his addiction? He's been free of the stuff for years.  Pitch looks around to see Sandy quietly leaving the canteen along with Bunny.

There had been a time when Pitch and Sandy had been bitter rivals within the prison, both of them running the two variants of 'Sand' - Golden and Black, and pushing it to the inmates for inflated prices.  Of course everyone knew there was far more chance of a bad trip when you'd taken Black Sand, compared to Golden...but the high afterwards...oh the _high_.  It felt like you were flying through the sky on the back of a raging, stampeding nightmare herself. 

"I'm clean," Pitch snarls menacingly at the man, all his sense of good humour gone, evaporated with the mention of his old weakness. 

"You sure Pitch? You still look slightly grubby to me," the second man sneers, gesturing to the greyish tinge to Pitch's skin that had been caused by years of using the notoriously dangerous drug. 

"It's impossible to get," Pitch snaps, furious with himself for even biting their bait.  But when he'd been on Black Sand, that was when his art had been _truly_ magnificent.  He'd never lacked in inspiration, he simply used his own hallucinated trips to fuel the horror of his stories.  It was Black Sand that had raised him to the elevated position of 'The Nightmare King'. 

"We can get it.  We'll work on the socks at a later date," the first man grins, sliding his tongue over his own yellowing teeth, "but I think that's the sense of purpose covered don't you?"

"All we're asking is that you share Pitch," the second man adds, holding his hands up as if it were the simplest logic in the world. 

Pitch hates himself that he lets the two men get up and leave the table before he can respond. 

 

***


	3. Chapter 3

 

Pitch watches Jack with interest in the evening before lights out.  As soon as they'd come back into the cell the young prisoner had asked Pitch if he could borrow some paper and a pencil from Pitch's art supplies.  The word 'borrow' Pitch had supposed was a nicety seeing as he guessed the paper wasn't exactly going to be returned to him from the way Jack was scribbling on it. 

Every time Pitch tilted his head, however, curious to see what the kid was working on, Jack would pause and shift the paper away on his bed ever so slightly out of Pitch's view.  Eventually Pitch gives up on snooping and admits his interest by saying, "I didn't peg you for an artist Jack."

Jack's pale thin fingers come to rest motionless on the page as he flicks his bright blue eyes up at Pitch.  "You don't know anything about me."

Pitch frowns, Jack's not normally so hostile right away, usually Pitch has to aggravate him into such an amusing state.  He watches carefully as Jack picks up his pencil again to write something before throwing it down on the floor in frustration and letting out a huff.

"You'll bread the lead," Pitch snaps, already swinging himself off of his own bed and snatching up the pencil, checking for damage. 

"I'm sorry," Jack says dully, although he sounds far from it. 

"Something on your mind?" Pitch enquires, trying to keep his own voice casual and innocent. 

"They're idiots," Jack huffs again, "it's not going to work and..." he trails off, snapping his head over in Pitch's direction and narrowing his eyes suspiciously.  "It's nothing that concerns you." 

"Fine," Pitch sighs, "well then at least try to mull over whatever it is quietly so I can get on with some work." 

An hour later and Pitch feels like stroppily throwing down his own pencil.  His mind won't seem to connect with his hand, and even if it did, there's nothing inspiring him tonight.  Nothing's been inspiring him since his conversation with the two men at breakfast a week ago.  Just at the mere _mention_ of Black Sand and here he is - reduced to an empty vessel of absent dreams.  Without his nightmares he's _nothing_ \- just another forgotten prisoner that nobody knows the name of. 

Pitch glances over to note, rather enviously, that Jack has already drifted off into sleep.  The piece of scribbled upon paper still resting gently by the side of his face.  Pitch watches as Jack's restful face scrunches up into the occasional frown.  For some god know reason Pitch almost has the urge to walk over there and smooth out the worry lines on Jack's forehead with his fingers. 

Eventually he does get up and go towards Jack, although it's with a very different objective in mind.  His curiosity has gotten the better of him and he wants to see what Jack's been working on.  He guesses it also has something to do with all the less-than-subtle covert conversations Jack's been having with his 'friends' recently. 

It's not a piece of art at all, like Pitch had first assumed, but rather what looks like a compilation of schematic diagrams, perhaps of some kind of underground tube system.  Jack's scrawled various names and times across the blank spaces of the sheet.  Pitch almost immediately recognizes some of the times as changeover points for the guards.

"Oh you poor foolish boy," Pitch murmurs as guesses what this plan might be in aid of, "what _have_ they gotten you into?"

One name that stands out in particular for Pitch is Sandy's.  Sandy had always been a day-dreaming fool, refusing to let go of that optimism for a brighter future, of somehow escaping the prison.  Now it seemed like he'd gotten others caught up in his reckless plans. 

If escape was even possible, Pitch is pretty sure he would have figured it out for himself by now.  It's not like he enjoys the prospect of spending the rest of his days in this drab little cell watching other men come and go like visitors to a stagnant watering hole. 

No, all that will happen is that Sandy and his naive co-conspirators will get caught or ratted out.  Then not even Pitch will be able to protect Jack from whatever fate will befall him. 

 _Protect Jack_?

Pitch sneers at himself mockingly, since when did he care about the wellbeing of another living soul? Especially one as delicate as this fragile little snowflake.

He peers down, over the top of the paper to watch Jack sleeping, his slender chest giving rise and fall to his breaths.  Dark thick eyelashes flutter like raven's wings against the snowdrift of his cheeks, stretched soft pink lips part gently in the throes of a deep sleep.  Then there's the frown again, Pitch wonders if Jack's having a nightmare?

It's the first nightmare in a long time that doesn't bring a smile to Pitch's face. 

 

 

 

***

 

 

"I'm telling you Kangaroo, the math doesn't add up," Jack states, feeling the blood rush to his face as he sees Tooth and Jamie's doubting looks. 

"The name's _Bunny_ kid," Bunny growls, "and I'm telling _you_ it bloody does! Unless you have a wealth of mining and tunnelling experience that you'd like to share with us all?"

"No," Jack huffs frustratedly, "but it's just common sense!"

"You're not used to working as part of a team are you Jack?" Tooth smiles kindly as she reaches out to squeeze his shoulder.  "Of course this plan wouldn't work if one person was trying to do it alone, but when you factor in all of us - all playing our different parts - then we can _make_ it work." 

Jack grimaces at them, "I'm...I just tend to be better off when I don't get mixed up with other people."

"Jack!" Jamie exclaims with a hurt look.  "We're your _friends_." 

"Some of us," Bunny mutters with a dark look as Jack rolls his eyes and Tooth clicks her tongue chidingly.

"Whatever," Jack replies, feeling too tired to lose his temper again.  He'd had nightmares all of last night and slept badly as a result.  "I'm on laundry duty so I better get going." 

"You want someone to walk you there?" Jamie asks hopefully but his face falls as Jack shakes his head.  "No, I'm fine thanks.  I just want some time to myself to think for a while.  Besides no one's tried anything with me for a while." 

"Watch your back," Tooth calls out after him as Jack stalks back into the prison's main building and begins to traipse down the winding corridors to the laundry room.  Jack actually likes being on laundry duty, the entire area smells clean and fresh, the noise of the rumbling machines tends to drown out his more worrisome thoughts, and people don't tend to congregate in the laundry room. 

Today, however, fate has obviously decided to piss on Jack, as only five minutes after he's arrived in the laundry room himself, he can hear voices approaching from the corridor outside.  He instinctively drops the soiled jumpsuit he's holding, giving up on trying to guess whether a stain is blood or ketchup.  Jack tacks a few paces back and holes himself up behind some of the currently unused dryers.  One of the machines' thick perspex doors is swung open so he can see the reflections of the men enter the room from where he's hidden. 

"Comes in through the washing powder," a voice grunts as the men amble heavily over to where the large cardboard cartons are sat on some makeshift tables.  _Damn_ , Jack had forgotten today was Tuesday and therefore one of the usual shipment days for inmates sourcing illegal things from the outside.  The men were probably down here collecting illicit cigarettes or porn. 

Sure enough it only takes a few minutes of one of them sticking his grubby hand in the white powder and rooting around before he draws out three packs of cigarettes and a small box of something Jack can't quite make out. 

"Shouldn't there be someone in here?" a small, red headed man notes as they begin to look like they're finally ready to leave.  Jack bites his lip in annoyance and attempts to shift even further back into the shadowed crevice he's squeezed in to. 

"Yeah..." a larger muscled man nods in agreement, frowning and glancing around the room. 

"You don't reckon that _someone_ is hiding so that they can grass on us later?" the red headed man says snidely, the words dripping with accusation. 

Jack's heart speeds up, he knows what happens to prison snitches and he doesn't want the men to think he's one.

"Simple test," the large blonde man shrugs before raising his voice, "if anyone's in here, come out now and show you're not a rat.  If you keep hiding, however, and _we_ find you - you're gonna be in trouble." 

A flurried snowstorm of swearwords sweep through Jack's already trembling brain as he makes the decision to step out from behind the dryers.  Even if he doesn't come out now all the men have to do is check the roster on the common room wall to see who was meant to be on duty at this time. 

"It's the little frosted cupcake!" a dark, curly haired man laughs. 

"I'm not a rat," Jack says quickly, keen to assert that point as much as possible, "I promise I'm not going to tell the guards or anything." 

"Why does he look so...whole?" the red headed man asks, narrowing his beady eyes and looking Jack up and down. 

"There's been some debate about his ownership," the curly haired man tells them, sounding as if he prides himself on being a veritable source of prison gossip.  Jack frowns at them in puzzlement, he doesn't understand what the hell they're talking about but it doesn't sound good. 

"Don't see anyone else here do you?" the blonde man growls, taking a menacing step towards Jack. 

"I'm not going to tell anyone!" Jack exclaims again, a hint of desperation edging into his voice. 

"We should make sure," the red headed man shrugs.

"I can think of way to make him lose his voice," the muscled blonde man grins, revealing bloodied gums and several missing teeth. 

Pure terror courses through Jack's veins as he realises that all of the men have started approaching him now.  Jack does the only thing that he can do in that moment - he runs. 

Jack's always been fast, faster than any of the other kids, and since coming to prison he's been running track every day to keep himself fit and occupied.  He easily skirts past the blonde man's first lumbering grasp, ducking under the tables and going on all fours to crawl behind the back of the washing machines.

"Little shit!" he hears someone snarl before thundering footsteps tell him that the men are running around to the other side to try and smoke him out.  Jack looks up, realising he's going to have to climb as he scrabbles up the double stacked machines and heaves himself across to the centre of the room again. 

"There he is!" someone shouts out, making Jack lose his balance as he tries to clamber down off the edge.  He falls with a splintering thud onto the unforgiving concrete floor below, letting out a yelp of pain as his ankle crumbles with the impact.  As he tries to stagger upright he knows he's done something pretty bad to it as every step is fucking agony and running is absolutely out of the question. 

He just reaches the makeshift tables when he feels hands grab the back of his jumpsuit, prying him backwards.  "Come here you scrappy fuck!" a man hisses, spinning Jack around and pinning him back against the table, knocking over one of the washing powder boxes, its contents spilling out like snow. 

The movement causes Jack's ankle to twist even more unnaturally and he lets out another cry of pain as the man slams his stinking hand over Jack's mouth.

"Shut the hell up or you'll get the guards in here!"

"Put something in his mouth!" someone else calls as they run up to join the fray. 

"Oh I've got something for him," the man growls, reaching down to undo his fly.  Jack panics, scrabbling back on the table to lean as far away as possible, his hand slips on the crumbled powder of the laundry detergent. 

Jack draws his fingers over the spilled powder before making the snap decision to jerk forwards, throwing a handful of the flakes into his attacker's eyes like a blizzard.  There's a howl of pain as the man loses his grip on Jack, falling backwards and pawing at his face.  Jack skirts off immediately to the right, staggering towards the dryers and grabbing at one of the open doors for support so as not to lose his balance.  Without thinking Jack then continues to climb into the dryer, slamming the door shut behind him. 

A large hand smacks at the door before hammering on the perspex front, angry shouting following it.  Jack knows that pretty soon the morons outside will realise that the door can _only_ be opened from the outside and Jack is absolutely royally screwed.  The circle of translucent plastic only allows Jack to see the blurred outlines of the men as they begin to crowd around the machine.  He edges further backwards, letting out a groan of agony as his ankle crushes against the back of the drum. 

They're still not opening the door and it serves to send a further frisson of fear down the back of Jack's already tingling spine.  If they're not going to let him out...surely... _surely_ they're not going to turn the machine on with him inside?!

Suddenly there's a bloodcurdling scream from outside and Jack's eyes widen as dark shadows fly across his blurred vision.  He can hear some kind of fight happening on the other side of the plastic, he can make out the thuds of limbs against concrete, the cries of pain and without warning, the crimson splash of blood against the machine's window. 

Jack lets out a gasp, shrinking back further and covering his ears, burying his face against the damp jumpsuits that had already been chucked ready in the dryer.  Eventually, Jack lifts his head up and he crawls cautiously back to look out of the circle of light.  He can still hear noises, but now it sounds more like some kind of heavy object being dragged across the floor.  There's a few moments of following silence before the dryer door clicks open. 

Jack lifts his trembling hand to push it fully back but someone gets there before he can and he finds himself staring up into the glowing yellow eyes of Pitch Black. 

"Pitch!" Jack exclaims in shock as the older man reaches in to scoop Jack out of the metal drum.  Jack lets out a squeal as Pitch accidently knocks his ankle against the steel rim of the dryer, causing Pitch to pause and then lower Jack gently to the floor. 

"You're hurt," Pitch notes, his voice seems vacant of emotion, merely stating a fact. 

"My ankle, I think it's -" Jack trails off with a tight breath as he realises he's surrounded by several large pools of blood. 

"W-where are the men? The ones that attacked me?"

"They got bored and left," Pitch shrugs, moving to wipe his bloodied hands on one of the un-dried jumpsuits in the machine.  "I'm afraid I'm going to need to do laundry," Pitch announces, glancing down at his own red stained clothes. 

"What did you do?" Jack asks, although his voice comes out as no more than a cracked whisper, terrified of what the answer might be.  "Where are the men?"

"I told you - " Pitch sighs but Jack interrupts him with an angry shout.  "Stop fucking around Pitch! There were five of them - what the _hell_ happened?" 

"I got charcoal on my sleeve," Pitch explains as Jack frowns at him in absolute disorientated confusion.  "I came to see if whoever was on laundry duty could get it out, I don't like having dirty sleeves to do my art - it smudges all over the page."

"Pitch..." Jack pleads.

"What do you care what happened to the men Jack?" Pitch asks, a genuine question in his tone, "I've cleared up well enough for now and later I will make a deal with my usual guards to rid us of this mess entirely."

That's when Jack catches sight of it, the unmistakable glint of a razor blade as Pitch stoops to drop the object into his pocket. 

"Oh my god," Jack murmurs, feeling sick. 

"You're welcome," Pitch snaps irritably before reaching down to haul Jack back up, "now let's get you to Medical shall we?"

"They didn't touch me," Jack gulps, "I got away and then I hid in the dryer."

"You need to go to Medical for your _ankle_ Jack," Pitch replies, although his voice has softened to something akin to understanding.  "Plus I think you're in shock,  you feel freezing."

"I always feel that way," Jack mumbles numbly, "something to do with my circulation." 

"Either way, we should get a doctor to have a look at you," Pitch sighs, "can you walk at all?"

Jack nods slowly before attempting to put some weight on his ankle and letting out a sharp cry of pain.  Perhaps his optimism about his ability to walk himself to the infirmary had been a little premature. 

"Fine," Pitch nods matter of factly before reaching down to scoop Jack up, cradling him to his chest in an undignified bridal style hold.  Jack lets out a weak squawk of indignation before finally relenting and falling limp in Pitch's strong and unyielding arms.     

"Did you throw detergent in one of the men's eyes?" Pitch asks casually as he strides out of the laundry room with Jack in tow. 

"Yeah," Jack sniffs.

"Very clever," Pitch smiles approvingly.

"Don't patronize me," Jack growls, but there's not much bite left in his voice.

"Never," Pitch replies quietly, "I'd much rather admire you." 

 

 

***

 

 

Jack laughs at the 'Welcome Back Jack!' handmade sign that's been hung up in the prison common room.  It's quite clearly Tooth's handiwork as the entire thing is covered in purples and greens and copious amounts of glitter that she must have had to get smuggled in specially. 

"Thanks guys," he grins ruefully as he hobbles towards his friends.  His ankle is still in plaster and he's using an old prison medical ward crutch to get about - although the piece of equipment is so dated and cumbersome it really resembles more of a wizened staff.

"Proud of you Jack," North nods kindly, "don't let the bastards keep you down." 

"I missed you!" Jamie cries, crowding Jack with a hug before the rest of them descend on him.  Even Bunny's got a sympathetic smile and a supportive clap on the shoulder for Jack this time. 

"Have..." Jack trails off awkwardly but he's desperate to find out any information, "have you guys heard anything about Pitch or what happened to my attackers?"

"Pitch?" Tooth screws up her face in confusion.  "What's he got to do with it?"

"Holy crap he wasn't one of the men that went after you was he?!" Jamie cries, his eyes widening in horror as he reaches out to grip Jack's arm.

"No!" Jack replies quickly, not understanding what's going on.  "No -he was the one that...well you know."

"We _don't_ know Jack," North frowns.  "The official story is that five men attacked you in the laundry room before they turned on each other.  There was a brief investigation but it all got concluded pretty quickly." 

"But - no..." Jack pauses, "who was in charge of the investigation?"

"Few of the guards and some external people," Bunny shrugs, "I know that Richards was on the taskforce." 

Jack chews his lip as he remembers Richards being the guard to bring Pitch his smuggled art supplies. 

"Right," Jack murmurs, nodding thoughtfully, "yeah, sure - right."

"You sure you're not still suffering from concussion are you Jack?" Tooth asks with a look of concern, reaching out to feel his forehead.  Jack laughs and shrugs her off, "No - I'm fine! Come on, what are we all standing around for - isn't it lunchtime soon?"

The others stare at Jack for a few more seconds, as if trying to work out whether he really is okay or not before they too begin to smile again, clapping him on the back and making joking grabs at his staff. 

 

****

 

"Rejoined the land of the living again I see?" Pitch notes dryly as Jack enters their cell that evening. 

"Yeah you should try it out sometime," Jack snipes back, instantly wondering whether or not he should have started off with thanking Pitch for saving him.  His fears dissipate however when Pitch snorts in amusement.  "Kind offer Jack, but that dream is over." 

"You working on something?" Jack asks, nodding over towards Pitch's open sketchbook. 

"Yes, actually," Pitch replies thoughtfully.  "It's a work in progress but would you like to see?"

"Sure," Jack replies, feeling surprised.  Pitch has never offered to show him any of his work before. 

Pitch flips a few pages back to a large sheet where he's meticulously drawn a young pale figure standing in front of spiked ice fortress of sorts.  The scene is awash with snow and frost, the boy in the centre of the page is smiling as if he belongs there, his blue hood drawn up over white blonde hair.

"Holy shit," Jack exclaims, nearly dropping the book, "it's - it's _me_."  He jerks his head back up to Pitch who seems to be studying Jack's reaction intently.   

"It's just a preliminary sketch," Pitch says with a dismissive wave, "although now you've got that crutch I think I might quite fancy adding that in - adds a certain fantasy element." 

"I - I don't understand," Jack stammers, "why have you drawn me?"

"I didn't realise you were so picture shy Jack," Pitch sighs, although he sounds weary rather than angry. 

"Wait," Jack shoots his hand out to grab Pitch's wrist and stop the older man from taking the book away.  "Can - have you drawn anything else, can I see?"

Pitch purses his lips for a deciding moment before handing the sketchpad casually back into Jack's hands as if it costs him nothing when really Jack can see the tension in his expression. 

Jack quickly flips to the beginning of the relatively new book and arrives on the first page.  "Is - is this _you_?" he asks, his eyes widening as he takes in the scene of a towering shadowed man, dressed all in black with Pitch's unmistakable jaw line and yellowed eyes.  The background is awash with shaded detail, beautiful Victorian style birdcages hand from the ceiling of some kind lair. 

"Holy shit," Jack murmurs, wanting so badly to reach out and touch the charcoal forms with his fingers but scared he'll smudge it if it hasn't been fixed yet.  "Is this how you see yourself?"

"Every king should have a palace," Pitch replies and this time there's a smile in his voice.  Jack lets out a disbelieving laugh as he looks up to shake his head at the older man.  He takes his time to study Pitch's self portrait which is equal parts beautiful and grotesque before he flips to the next few pages and realises that Pitch has been doing sketches of the other inmates in the prison.  There's one of Tooth - but she's been depicted almost like some kind of stunning exotic bird with dazzling wings that Pitch has captured in the microscopic detail of rendering them mid-flight. 

"These are incredible..." Jack murmurs as he reaches the next image and recognizes North all dressed up in furs with his prison tattoos.  "He looks like a scary Father Christmas!" Jack laughs as Pitch gives him a pleased feral smile.  "But I thought you hated my friends - why have you been drawing them?"

Pitch flicks his hand and pulls a face, "I've been drawing you Jack, they just happen to always be around you like hovering gnats.  I figured I might as well include them.  Every good story has to have dispensable cannon fodder after all." 

"Shut up," Jack retorts, though there's no viciousness to it. 

"Hey you even drew Sandy and _oh my god_ is that Bunny?" Jack snorts with uncontrollable laughter.  "Pitch this is fantastic! Look at those ears!"

"I'm glad you agree," Pitch replies, his lips twitching up in another smile. 

"Wait, this is Jamie right?" Jack frowns as he gets to the last page.  "He just looks like a normal kid?"

"That's because people so often forget he is," Pitch replies, although there's a slightly tentative tone to his voice, as if he's unsure about letting Jack into his thoughts.  "I remember when that boy arrived here in this prison, all the men exotified him to the point that it became dangerous for him.  Until North took him under his wing that is.  Most of us are just kids when we come here," Pitch sighs, "sometimes I forget that." 

"If Jamie's a human boy then what am I?" Jack frowns, flipping back to the portrait of him.

"An unstoppable force of nature," Pitch grins, "a Winter spirit." 

Jack snorts and reluctantly closes the drawing book, handing it back to Pitch, shuddering as their fingers brush up against each other. 

"So...you're using us in your next story?" Jack asks, not sure whether or not to be embarrassed at how excited he sounds.  He hadn't even heard of the Nightmare King's comics before he came into this place.  But then horror had never really been his preferred genre, he'd much rather comedy. 

"I might do," Pitch says, but he's now wearing a frown, "if I can come up with one that is.  My imagination seems to be struggling these days."

"Sorry to hear that," Jack shrugs, not sure what he can suggest.  It's not like there's a pill you can take to help in that department. 

"I suppose the ankle has rather put a damper on your plans to escape?" Pitch asks with a dark eyebrow raised. 

"Who the fuck told you about that?" Jack snaps, feeling terrified for one thoughtless moment that Pitch might rat him and his friends out to the guards. 

"I saw your sheet of scribblings," Pitch shrugs as Jack mentally kicks himself.  "The tunnels will only lead to trouble Jack."

"Oh and you'd know that would you?" Jack sniffs petulantly, shifting back off of Pitch's bed but finding himself without his crutch.  He snaps his head back round to see Pitch smirking at him, the crutch raised above his head by long arms. 

"Looking for something Jack?"

"Yeah, a new cellmate," Jack grumbles, twisting his body to vainly try and snatch at the crutch.  "One who realises that this isn't the playground!"

"Oh but it really is," Pitch drawls amusedly as he lifts the crutch even higher, forcing Jack to hold up both his hands in an effort to grab it.

"Give it here you fucker," Jack snaps, throwing himself forwards and slipping on the sheets at the last moment so he ends up sprawled on top of Pitch in a very undignified position. 

"Oh Jack," Pitch laughs, "I had no idea you were _that_ grateful so as to give me a hug - a simple handshake would have sufficed."

"Fuck you," Jack mutters through gritted teeth as he attempts to right himself, pushing down on Pitch's chest to give himself leverage.  He pauses as he realises he can feel Pitch's heartbeat through his fingertips - the rhythm is quick and heavy.  Jack uses his new position to shift his leg onto the bed as well, to give him more height to attempt to grab his crutch.  It also has the added effect of him basically having to straddle Pitch in order to stay upright. 

Jack frowns in surprise as he feels Pitch's heart skip a beat beneath his fingers.  He chances a quick look up at Pitch's face, but the older man is simply watching him with an amused expression.  Jack settles himself back on his haunches, sliding himself up Pitch's body so as to get closer to his objective. 

Pitch's heart skips again and then speeds up. 

"I -" Jack murmurs, his mouth dropping open as he begins to realise something.  Now he can't focus on anything other than the burning desire to satisfy his own curiosity.  So he moves again, this time he goes slowly, dragging his thighs along the sides of Pitch's torso, squeezing as he settles back down.

"Shit..." Jack breathes out, staring back at Pitch's unreadable expression.  "You're aroused!"

Pitch doesn't answer but merely cocks an interested eyebrow at Jack's assertion. 

"I mean - you, you want me don't you?" Jack stammers, realising that he's probably making a fool of himself. 

"Jack," Pitch sighs slowly as if he's about to explain something very obvious to a five year old, "I can guarantee that nearly every single man in this entire prison wants you, and that includes the guards." 

Jack flushes furiously, trying to fight the urge to scramble back off of Pitch and retreat to his own bed to hide under the covers in shame.

"But it's been better recently?" Jack puzzles, biting his lip hard enough to taste rust.  "I mean - people haven't been bothering me.  I know there was that whole thing in the laundry room, but that was just me being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  They thought I was going to rat them out."

"That's because the other prisoners think you're mine," Pitch replies, his words quiet but heavy. 

"Yours?" Jack hisses, not sure what he's meant to feel other than shock.  "They've been staying away because of you?!"

"No Jack," Pitch replies sarcastically, "they all suddenly became born again Christians with the morals of Mother Theresa."

"You're an ass," Jack spits out for lack of knowing what else to say. 

"I never claimed to be anything good," Pitch sighs, reaching up to run his own artists'-calloused fingers down the side of Jack's cheek. 

Without thinking Jack turns to press a kiss to Pitch's palm, freezing as he hears the other man's gasp of surprise. 

"You are not in my debt Jack," Pitch croaks slowly, his voice hoarse from the effort of saying those words.  Jack knows that the older man would probably prefer not to enlighten Jack to that particular fact of information. 

"I know," Jack replies simply.  "I owe you gratitude and nothing else."  

"So what's this?" Pitch hisses as Jack leans down again to plant a trail of chaste kisses up the side of Pitch's exposed long neck. 

" _Fun_ ," Jack whispers back before baring his teeth and nipping at Pitch's greyed skin.  The other man lets out a surprised noise before growling and letting the crutch fall to the floor with a clattering sound.  Jack laughs as Pitch rears up to turn them around, pinning Jack back down to the bed so Pitch is the one on top. 

"You taste like ash," Jack frowns, licking his lips and trying to do it as slowly as possible for Pitch's benefit.  Pitch lets out a strangled laugh before ducking down to catch Jack's lips in a quick press of mouths.  He draws back with a wicked glint in his eye, "I suppose my fire went out a long time ago."

"Fire's too hot," Jack shrugs, "at least ash is cold...and dark."  He strains upwards to kiss Pitch again, sliding their lips together messily. 

"Careful Jack," Pitch murmurs in between the embraces, "or you'll get smudges." 

"It's cool," Jack grins, his lips stretching against Pitch's, "I work in laundry." 

"You sure you want this?" Pitch asks, his voice rough and yet still pouring like honey across Jack's frozen skin.

"Since when did you get a conscience?" Jack asks, smirking up at Pitch who snarls back down at him before latching onto the pale boy's neck with his sharpened teeth. 

Jack lets out a shocked cry before groaning as Pitch's bite turns into sucking and finally nursing licks, stroking a vivid bruise on snow white skin to life. 

"Do you want me?" Jack whispers, leaning up to cradle Pitch's face in his hands.  "Because," he steels his nerves and lets himself trust someone else for once, "if you want me - I can be yours for tonight."

 

 

*** 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

Pitch stares down in wonder at the blushing boy beneath him.  Jack blinks owlishly back at Pitch before starting to squirm, evidently the silence has gone on too long. 

_'I can be yours for tonight'_

The words echo around Pitch's head, nudging all other thoughts out of the way to make space for this singular moment of _want_ and _desire_. 

"This, is something you want?" Pitch asks tentatively, cursing himself for taking the time to check.  This delicacy will not be offered on a platter like this again - why is Pitch not seizing it immediately with both hands?

"I thought I made that clear," Jack frowns, "for such a cryptic _dangerous_ guy you're actually kinda dense huh?"

Pitch growls low as Jack laughs, yelping as Pitch leans down to suck blossoming bruises across his neck again.  The sakura of burst blood vessels and broken skin bloom upon a winter snow of tender flesh.  Pitch can't remember ever seeing a colour palette more perfect, it's almost enough to make him pause and turn to paint it... _almost_. 

Instead he continues to lick and nip hungrily at Jack's skin, the boy tastes like shaved ice, a syrupy sweetness poured on crushed frost and served in delicate paper cones. 

" _Mine to devour_ ," Pitch rumbles, running his hand softly and then more tightly up Jack's lithe body, gripping hard enough at the cut of his hip bone to make Jack gasp and rear up off the bed.  The boy swears as he forgets his ankle, obviously having leaned on it the wrong way.   Pitch reaches down to lift Jack's leg up and hook it around his own, slotting them together in a new position that gives Jack more balance and Pitch more purchase. 

"What exactly are you offering me?" Pitch whispers hotly into the fragile cold shell of Jack's ear.  The boy trembles beneath his touch as if he might fall apart at any moment. 

"What do you want?" Jack asks, he smiles up at Pitch but there's a flicker of uncertainty in his face.  It's not fear - no - Pitch _knows_ fear when he sees it.  But still there's something vulnerable in Jack's expression. 

"Have you done anything like this before?" Pitch asks softly, careful not to let any mockery or condescension slip into his tone.  Jack takes a steadying breath, he looks almost annoyed before flicking his large blue eyes away in embarrassment.

"That's okay," Pitch reassures silkily, leaning to press a kiss on Jack's forehead and tasting the beaded sweat there.  "I can go slowly."

 _Can I_?! Pitch wonders to himself in utter bemusement.  Pitch _never_ makes promises like that, what does he care about some poor little virgin's delicate sensibilities? What is it about Jack that makes such assurances slip from his tongue before he can prise them back and send forth his usual calculated snipes or sarcasm. 

Regardless, the words still seem to work on Jack as he slowly draws his eyes back to Pitch and there's a small smile there.  Pitch feels confusion in his belly, Jack seems _pleased_ with him. 

"It doesn't mean it won't still hurt," Pitch says quickly, telling himself he's enjoying the momentary flicker of fear in Jack's sapphire eyes.  However the truth is that he doesn't want to mislead Jack or feed him false promises of what Pitch can do for him. 

"Just..." Jack swallows, his Adam's Apple bobbing noticeably through his new necklace of blue bruises, "just try to go slow okay?"

Pitch nods hungrily before beginning to run his long fingers up and down Jack's trembling sides again, eventually coming up to shed the cursed grey fabric from Jack's untouched body.  The rest of Jack is just as ice white as his face, if not more so.  There's a deep groove running down the centre of his slender chest, his pink nipples are already hard and budding in a field of gooseflesh. 

"Jesus Jack," Pitch growls, ducking down to take one of the buds between his sharp teeth, rolling it around with his tongue and sucking gently.  Jack lurches off of the bed with a cry and Pitch revels in just _how_ sensitive the boy is.  Every single touch seems to send spasms down Jack's lithe body, thrusting him up closer into Pitch's covering embrace. 

Pitch continues to draw Jack's clothes off, depositing them on the floor and turning back round to feast on the sight that awaits him.  Jack's cheeks blush blue in colour as he tries to pull the covers up over himself and shy away from Pitch's relentless gaze.  However Pitch quickly slaps the blankets away with a chiding smile, he puts a finger over Jack's lips to silence any protests before running it reverently down over Jack's chin, over his quickly rising and falling chest and then through a light dusting of hair.  Eventually Pitch's grip winds its way around Jack's hard cock, his erection is so intense it almost looks like it's physically throbbing in Pitch's hand.  The tip of Jack's swollen purpled prick is glistening as pearls of precome come beading out of his slit that almost gapes with the effort. 

It's only Jack's wanton groan that causes Pitch to regain his focus as he hunches over Jack's cock as if getting ready to bow in worship.  And if there ever was a thing worth worshipping? - Surely such beauty should be up there. 

"Pitch please..." Jack pleads, although his inability to finish the sentence tells Pitch that the boy isn't even sure what he's begging for, just _something_.  Pitch knows that Jack won't last long, especially having never been touched like this before and he wants nothing more than Jack to come with Pitch inside of him.  But he also can't bear to let that beautiful pulsing cock head go untouched, _untasted_. 

"Jesus Christ!" Jack gasps out, jerking up in a spasming movement as Pitch flattens his lips over his teeth and gently guides Jack's prick into his mouth.  Salted sweetness floods Pitch's mouth and for a moment he thinks Jack's come already, but then he realises it's just the taste of Jack's ample precome.  Pitch smiles in satisfaction around Jack's head before moving to swallow down the smooth shaft, mottled hot silk wrapped over ice-like hardness. 

Pitch lets himself suck lightly just to see Jack's reaction.  He's rewarded with a stuttered shout and nearly gets punched in the eye as Jack flails so perfectly. 

Pitch draws back off the boy with a pop that echoes around the room incriminatingly.  Despite having not yet actually come, Jack still looks spent and glazed over, panting as Pitch draws back up for another stolen kiss, allowing Jack to taste himself on Pitch's seeking tongue. 

"Turn over," Pitch instructs Jack hoarsely, only more aroused by the scratchiness of his own voice from shoving Jack's cock down his eager throat. 

"W-wait," Jack reaches out to hold Pitch's shoulders, "I- what about - I'm not letting you fuck me dry."

The words are crude and direct, so very to the point and oh so very _Jack_.  It makes Pitch laugh delightedly despite himself. 

"I'm fucking serious," Jack retorts angrily, evidently having taken Pitch's amusement for dismissal.

"Relax Jack," Pitch whispers, breaking away from the boy's tense grip.  "I have something.  It's normally only employed for personal use, but it's an unexpected pleasure to be sharing it."

Jack visibly relaxes before frowning at Pitch and huffing, "you're still an ass." 

"I still know," Pitch grins, reaching over to fish out a small glass jar from his bedside table.  Richards had brought in a new one last week, which was fortunate seeing as the jars were small and Pitch had been rather active in that self-pleasuring department lately.  Pitch checks to see that it will be enough to make it bearable for Jack before unscrewing the lid and liberally coating his fingers.  "Now turn around," Pitch commands, lowering his voice to a tone Jack can't argue with. 

If Pitch had though Jack's cock was worth worshipping, well he hadn't counted on Jack's ass.  Smooth, unblemished pale globes that Pitch gently pulls apart with slippery fingers to reveal a puckered soft hole. 

"So perfect," Pitch hisses, and he means it as he starts to trace his lubricated finger around Jack's quivering rim before gently teasing the pulsating muscle.  He can tell Jack's too tense, too taut to let him in without it hurting.

"You need to relax," Pitch whispers into Jacks ear as the boy huffs. 

"Yeah easy for you to say Pitch, you're still fully clothed and not the one preparing to take it up the ass for the first time." 

Pitch can tell from the heated blue shades that appear across the back of Jack's neck that the boy is blushing.  "Forgive me," Pitch drawls as he begins to dutifully strip himself, "it was an oversight on my part."  Pitch lets his own clothes fall to the floor and notices Jack straining his neck round as if trying to catch a glimpse.

"Can I...can I look?" Jack asks eventually.

"Of course," Pitch grins with pleasure, "For tonight, I am yours as well." 

Jack rolls his eyes as he moves around, but he's smiling with his front teeth hooked over his bottom lip in a coquettish expression.  The smile falters however and his blue eyes widen as Jack tracks his gaze up and down Pitch's body.  Pitch knows that despite the eerily greyish tinge to his skin, he still has a good physique.  He's tall and toned with broad shoulders and hardened muscles that are not bulging enough to be totally off-putting. 

"I - " Jack says as his stare drops to Pitch's own erection.  He narrows his eyes and sticks out his chin, making Pitch wonder if the boy's changed his mind about the whole arrangement.  Instead, Jack states firmly, "I want you to go _really_ slow okay?"

"Okay," Pitch nods, feeling a smile spread across his own face. 

"Help me turn back round?" Jack asks shyly.  "My ankle's hurting."

"Maybe we should try a different position then?" Pitch hazards.  "Would you prefer to face me?"

"I - will that work?" Jack asks looking vaguely surprised.

"Yes," Pitch grins and he can't help himself when he pulls Jack in for another bruising kiss that leaves them both panting and flushed. 

After ensuring that Jack is as comfortable as he can be with an ankle cast on, Pitch wastes no time in getting started on fingering him open.  "Relax," he hisses as the tip of his forefinger presses past the tight right of muscle into clenching warmth. 

"Oh this where you've been storing all your body heat!" Pitch laughs.  "There was me thinking you were pure icicle through and through."

Jack merely grunts in reply, his face screwed up in focus, there's sweat dripping down his nose as Pitch starts to push his finger further into Jack's body that seems to be intent on pushing him back out. 

Suddenly Jack lets out a long breath and the rest of Pitch's finger slips in with ease, right down to the knuckle, causing them both to gasp. 

"More," Jack pants, catching Pitch's eyes and refusing to look away, "I need another."

And who is Pitch to refuse a request like that?

Pitch takes his time opening Jack up, thrusting his fingers deep, scissoring them wide until Jack groans and tears leak from his eyes.  At one point he reaches up to put pressure on Jack's shoulder, pushing the boy's body up and down and letting him fuck himself on Pitch's only too willing fingers. 

"You're going to come from this aren't you?" Pitch gasps as Jack lets out another loud keening moan that stutters off into a mewling sound as Pitch twists his fingers in just the right way inside Jack. 

Jack, however, shakes his head vehemently, still not opening his eyes.  "No," he croaks, "not until you're inside me." 

"Ambitious for such a novice aren't we?" Pitch asks in amusement, but his own arousal pulsates through him and it's all he can do not to reach down and start jerking himself off, spraying the shaking boy beneath him in great spurts of claiming come. 

He avoids the temptation however, by promising himself that it will be so much better when he's burying himself deep inside of Jack.  "Do you think you can take me now?"

"Yeah," Jack pants, opening his eyes as the lashes stick with sweat to his cheeks.  "Yeah, I can take you."

"Good," Pitch remarks, trying to sound teasing but instead realising that his mouth has suddenly gone very dry.  He slicks up his own erection and moves sinuously in order to line the head of his cock up with Jack's fluttering hole, now gaping from the emptiness of not having three fingers inside of him.  The sight is enough to make Pitch's mouth water again. 

Pitch pushes in the first inch gingerly, sucking a tight breath as muscle tightens around his throbbing prick head, enveloping him in warm slick that refuses to let him move either forward or backwards.  Eventually Pitch feels Jack relax momentarily, allowing him the opportunity to thrust slowly forwards until he's buried in Jack's tight wet hole right up to the base of his throbbing shaft. 

"Jesus!" Jack cries out, his fingernails scratching wildly at the bed's sheets, causing them to bunch up and half fall to the floor.  Pitch reaches out to steady himself against the bed's metal headboard.  The cool touch serving to ground him as he begins to experimentally rock forwards.  Every roll of his hips earns him a grunt from Jack, who's soft pink mouth has fallen open into a lax 'o' shape as Pitch begins to pound into him in earnest.

"Look at you," Pitch hisses as he gazes down at Jack's face, so loose and yet so taut with sensation at the same time.  "Taking me so well."

Jack lets out a long mewling sound as he reaches up to scratch his fingernails down Pitch's back, causing the older man to let out a snarl.  He doesn't know if Jack's doing it in retaliation for Pitch's words or whether he doesn't even realise what he's doing, but either way it serves to only turn Pitch on more than he'd even thought possible. 

He pistons himself into Jack's small body relentlessly, occasionally slowing to draw out the whole of his shaft completely before slamming it back in and causing Jack to call out loud enough to make Pitch wonder if the guards will come running?  

Pitch shifts his position, resulting in his thrusts becoming faster and shallower.  Finally he finds what he's searching for, the head of his cock brushing over a bundle of nerves inside Jack's body.  The younger prisoner whimpers as Pitch starts to abuse his prostate, his eyes flying open in choked warning before he's coming without even a hand on his cock. 

Pitch milks Jack through it tenderly, drawing the last drop of snow white come from the boy as it dribbles down his shaft, pooling in his pubic hair and on his stomach where Pitch reaches forwards to spread it around using his fingers.  Pitch holds his breath as he then raises his come soaked fingers up to Jack's parted lips, hesitating before pressing gently against Jack's mouth. 

Cautiously at first, Jack's tongue flicks out from between his lips to lap at his own spilled seed on Pitch's fingertips.  Pitch's eyes go dark and hungry and Jack obviously sees something in them that he likes as it's not long before he's groaning and taking Pitch's fingers fully into his mouth, sucking and licking with a ferocity that Pitch never doubted him capable of. 

It's with this gesture that Pitch begins to rock back into Jack, slamming into his limp and spent body whilst Jack sucks his own taste off of Pitch's skin.  Pitch feels his balls rise up against his body before he comes with a shuddering roar, burying himself as far into Jack's hole as he can go, painting his inner walls with hot spurts of come, filling him up, _claiming him_.

After the last spasming thrust, Pitch falls against Jack's trembling body, allowing himself to press their damp chests together for as long as Jack lets him before Pitch feels a hand shoving at his shoulder.

"You're heavy you ass!" Jack mutters but Pitch can feel the boy's smirk against the sensitive skin of his neck.   

"My apologies," Pitch grumbles, biting down his own grin as he carefully pulls out of Jack, earning him a hiss of displeasure as Pitch's come starts to leak out of Jack's reddened and puffy hole, trailing down his ass and thighs to soil the bed in sticky flowering patches. 

"I'm not sleeping on _this_ bed tonight," Jack remarks with a huff, grimacing as he reaches for a stretch of toilet paper to try and clean himself up, eventually relinquishing the job to Pitch who is only too happy to help. 

"I hope I won't be either," Pitch murmurs, noticing the way Jack's eyebrows shoot up and his cheeks flush.

"Oh really Jack?" Pitch snorts.  "I pound your ass like it's our last night on Earth, but the idea of sleeping in the same bed turns you into a blushing princess?"

"Fuck off," Jack snaps, but there's no heat to the words.  "I just don't see how we'll fit, you're kinda big."

"Oh well thank you for noticing Jack," Pitch grins ferally, causing Jack to scoff and shake his head with laughter.

"You're an idiot, you know that Pitch? A self satisfied _idiot_." 

" _Your_ idiot for tonight," Pitch purrs quietly, but judging by Jack's twitching smile he's pretty sure the other prisoner heard him. 

After cleaning everything up as best as he can, Pitch scoops a yawning Jack up off the bed and walks over to deposit him on his own clean sheets. 

"I want my staff," Jack murmurs sleepily, pawing at Pitch's shoulder as the other man tries to walk away again. 

"It's a crutch Jack, really and you think _I'm_ self-aggrandizing?"

"It's a staff," Jack yawns, "Sounds cooler that way."

"Whatever you want my prince," Pitch chuckles, reaching down to brush stray white hairs off of Jack's now dry forehead.  "Now do budge up won't you?"

Jack lets out a noise that sounds distinctly like a grumble but he still shifts across in the bed towards the wall, allowing Pitch to climb in beside him.  A few minutes later, Jack turns back round and shuffles in towards Pitch's bare chest.  Pitch smiles, wrapping his arms around the boy as Jack firmly ensconces himself in Pitch's demanded embrace. 

 

***

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

"You're seriously not going to tell us what happened to your neck?"

Jack huffs and tries desperately not to blush as Tooth and Jamie stare at him in something akin to horror over the breakfast table.  Thankfully Bunny, North and Sandy are all on room check duty right now with the guards. 

"Nobody attacked me okay?" Jack laughs.

"Other than some kind of vampire leech you mean?" Tooth exclaims, which makes Jack want to laugh all the more. 

" _Please_ ," he begs them, "I promise you nobody hurt me, nothing was done without my full consent so can we just for the love of god talk about something else?"

"Fine," Tooth sighs in a tone that implies it is anything _but_ fine.  "But you better prepare yourself for when you see North because he is going to have some serious questions for you."

"Thanks for the heads up," Jack rolls his eyes, "I'll start knitting my scarf now."

"You're _sure_ nobody hurt you?" Jamie asks insistently. 

Jack can't help the wide smile that breaks across his face, it's truly touching to realise that he's made actual friends in here who genuinely care about his wellbeing. 

"Please Jamie," he whines, " _please_ can we change the subject? I'm fine okay? I promise I'm fine."

"You're sitting weirdly," Tooth notes, although there's now a faint trace of amusement in her voice as Jamie gasps in shock causing Jack to groan in embarrassment and thump his forehead against the table in front of him.  The biting cold metal reminds him of Pitch's kisses and only serves to send blood to various parts of his body that he's really trying not to think about right now.

"Where are we with the tunnels?" Jack asks quickly, raising his head and looking hopefully at Tooth. 

"Bunny reckons we should be able to attempt it within the next few weeks," Jamie mutters, still not removing his eyes from Jack's telltale bruises. 

"The next few weeks?" Jack asks in surprise.  Even having come in more than halfway through the escape plan, he'd still figured they had months to go before they could try anything for real. 

"Yeah why - you double booked or something?" Tooth snorts. 

"Yeah right," Jack laughs, but he feels slightly uncomfortable.  Say they _do_ succeed and manage to get out of the prison - is he just going to leave Pitch behind to rot without even letting him know about the plan?

Jack shakes his head, Pitch _does_ know about the plan and he's made it clear he doesn't want anything to do with it.  But then maybe he can be convinced like Jamie finally convinced Jack?

"Hey Jack? You with us?"

Jack flinches as he realises that Tooth is snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"Yeah - sorry, just thinking about it all." 

"Looking forward to getting out huh?" Jamie grins.  "Have you decided where you're going to go?"

"No," Jack shakes his head, "what about you guys?"

"I have family in southeast Asia," Tooth tells them, "I'll use connections and make my way there.  Should be a good place to hide out."

"North's going back to Russia, somewhere near the arctic circle he said," Jamie states, "or at least as far North as he can bribe the captain of a container ship to take him."

"Back to where the Vodka doesn't taste like shit," Tooth grins. 

"What about Bunny and Sandy?" Jack asks, genuinely interested.  He hasn't got a clue where he'll go, he's never felt like anywhere was particularly his 'home'. 

"Oh Sandy will be alright," Jamie laughs, "he's in here for investment embezzlement, financial crimes - that kind of thing.  He could have gotten out sooner but he never told them what he did with the money.  He'll probably go buy his own island somewhere under an alias." 

Jack raises his eyebrows, "he'd never really asked anyone else what their crimes were before, it just didn't seem relevant to who they were now."

"Bunny just says he wants to get as far away from here as possible," Tooth shrugs, "so I reckon he'll end up back over on the other side of the world where he grew up.  He's always ranting about missing the outback."

"And you Jamie?" Jack ventures, half hoping that wherever Jamie says he's going, he might be okay with Jack tagging along.

"I've got an uncle in Pennsylvania," Jamie shrugs, "he says if I can get myself out of here then he can get me a new identity and I'll go work for him." 

"Oh," Jack replies, trying to smile but feeling somewhat disappointed that everyone else seems to have themselves figured out.

"I'm sure you'll think of somewhere to go," Tooth tells him, reaching out to pat his hand kindly. 

"Yeah," Jack nods, "better than being stuck in here right?"

"Right!" Jamie laughs as they continue with their breakfast. 

 

After stacking his empty tray up with the others, Jack uses his crutch to walk back through the canteen towards the exit.  Tooth and Jamie have already gone as they're on washing up duty today.  He grips his hand tightly around the top of the 'staff' for support and balance, biting his lip in a smile as he remembers Pitch teasing him with the crutch the night before.  Jack knows it's somewhat lame but he kind of hopes that Pitch will want them to sleep in the same bed again tonight.  It had felt safe and cosy snuggled up to the larger man, and ironically for the first time since arriving in the prison - Jack hadn't had nightmares. 

Suddenly a hand shoots out and grabs his sleeve, startling Jack from his reverie and causing him to stumble.  He winces as he rights himself back into an upright position, twisting to his left to see a table of grim looking men with gang tattoos staring at him. 

"What do you want?" Jack frowns, not in the mood for being picked on today.  Besides, he know that Pitch is due to come into the canteen any minute now after having completed his morning jobs with Richards. 

"I'm just glad to see that Pitch took my advice," the man still holding onto Jack's sleeve grunts before releasing him. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jack snaps, feeling heat rush uncomfortably to his cheeks.

The man uses a hangnail to pick toast from out between his teeth before gesturing to Jack's neck.  "He got full use of you first.  Fair I suppose, seeing as you do belong to him."

Jack's eyes widen in horror as he realises all the men at the table are staring intently at the bruises on his neck.

"You don't know anything," Jack snarls, readying himself to leave as quickly as possible, despite his injured ankle. 

"Just," the man starts, catching hold of Jack's sleeve again and pulling him back, "just tell Pitch his payment will be coming in soon and then we'll work out some arrangements concerning who has you when."

"W-what?" Jack whispers, feeling nausea drain through him.

"Tell Pitch," the man sighs, speaking slowly as if explaining something to a child, "that we'll have his Black Sand soon and we've already decided who gets you first." 

"What are you talking about?" Jack asks again, suddenly feeling very small. 

"Get Pitch to explain it to you," one of the men snorts, "and tell him not to mark you again, I want you fresh for my turn next week." 

Jack turns around, wrenching himself out of the man's grip and hurrying out of the canteen before he feels the need to vomit. 

_Get Pitch to explain it to you_

"Jack?!"

Jack wheels round at sound of Pitch's voice, the older man comes running out from the canteen doors, walking quickly over to where Jack is shaking and propped up against a nearby wall. 

"You speed-hobbled straight past me!" Pitch exclaims.  "Didn't you hear me calling your name?"

Jack shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak right now. 

"What's wrong?" Pitch frowns with concern, taking a step towards Jack who cringes back away from him.  "Jack..." Pitch murmurs softly, a surprising look of hurt on his face. 

"What's Black Sand?" Jack chokes out, his heart dropping at Pitch's responding expression. 

"Who have you been talking to?" Pitch snaps, pushing himself closer into Jack's space.

"Oh fuck it's true isn't it?" Jack half sobs, averting his eyes to the grubby floor and willing himself not to cry.  "You bastard..."

"Jack I don't know what you've heard but I'm going to tell you the truth now," Pitch states firmly.  "Black Sand is a variant of a prison drug known as 'Sand'.  It's something I used to sell, and honestly, it's something that used to control me.  I was an addict."

"I don't fucking care about your sob story!" Jack shouts, making Pitch recoil in shock.  "I care about the fact that you fucking sold me for it didn't you?"

Pitch gapes at Jack for such a long time that Jack half starts to hope he might deny knowledge of the whole thing.  Instead, Pitch composes himself to ask grimly, "Who have you been talking to?"

"You bastard!" Jack screams, lashing forwards in an attempt to punch Pitch, however in his anger he forgets about his ankle and ends up stumbling into Pitch's arms.

"Get the fuck off me!" Jack yells, desperately trying to scramble backwards and sinking to the ground instead.

"Jack..." Pitch whispers desperately.

"I _trusted_ you!" Jacks shouts furiously up at the towering shadow of a man, "I _believed_ in you!"

"Jack I didn't sell you," Pitch snaps quickly.  "Those men, they wanted to do a deal.  I would share you with them in return for Black Sand and they would make sure no one else tried to take you."

"I'm not yours to share," Jack chokes, wiping uselessly at his tear stained face. 

"I know that Jack," Pitch replies, kneeling down so his yellow eyes are level with Jack's blue ones.  "I - I didn't say yes."

"Did you say no?" Jack asks immediately, regretting it the minute he knows he's hit the mark as a flash of intense pain crosses Pitch's face. 

"I -" Pitch falters, "Jack I wouldn't have...it was before..."

"Get away from me," Jack rasps hoarsely, grasping for his crutch and using it to heave himself up to a standing position, "I don't want you anywhere near me ever again you understand?"

"Jack," Pitch murmurs softly.

"No," Jack snaps, collecting himself enough to walk away down the corridor, "stay away from me Pitch.  I mean it." 

 

 

 

***

 

"First you wouldn't tell us what happened to your neck and now you won't tell me what's wrong?"

"Just drop it Jamie," Jack growls angrily as he hunches over to study the tunnel diagram further.  He knows his friends are all sending each other pointed looks but he can't bear to raise his head to witness their judgement for himself. 

"If it's something to do with Pitch," North grumbles before he's quickly shushed by someone that Jack guesses is Tooth. 

"He's no good kid," Bunny murmurs, coming to sit beside Jack on the library couch where they're hidden in a corner behind some dusty shelves.  "I'm sorry you had to find that out, whatever happened I can't imagine it was pleasant, but at least now you know - he's not one of the good guys."

"Yeah," Jack huffs mirthlessly, "I figured that out thanks."  He sighs as he sits back on the couch and jabs at his cast with his crutch, "You guys still sure I can come with you through the tunnels even with this?"

"Of course you can," Bunny nods, "it's not like we're going to be leaving you behind."

Jack manages a small sad smile, nodding his gratitude to the other prisoner. 

It's been a week since the incident regarding the Black Sand in the cafeteria, but the wound still feels fresh in Jack's heart.  It aches every time he thinks about Pitch, every time he breathes, every time he does anything really. 

For the most part Jack has managed to avoid spending as much time with Pitch as possible.  Obviously they still share a cell so there's the mandatory hours before lights out and then the night itself.  However Jack's gotten adept at pretending he's asleep when really he's wide awake. 

As for Pitch he just seems to be drawing a lot recently, often so engrossed in his sketch pad that he barely registers Jack's presence in the room.  Although it's what he said he wanted, Jack _hates_ the way Pitch is able to just carry on as if nothing had happened. 

Jack just feels like the prison walls are shrinking in on him.  The only light he can see now is the one at the end of the tunnel. 

Jack trudges back to his cell that night feeling drained and depressed.  He's early so had been hoping to maybe get some time to himself, instead however Pitch is already sat on his bed, drawing. 

Jack scowls and makes his way over to his own side of the room.  The only positive thing that's happened recently is that the other men in the prison seem to be leaving him alone.  He guesses perhaps it's something to do with Sandy and North and he's heard them mention his name a few times in their discussions. 

 

"The tunnels are a bad idea Jack."

Pitch's voice makes Jack flinch violently, he hadn't been expecting it as it slithers over to his half of the cell.  Jack wheels round, his face wearing an expression of angry shock as he raises his eyebrows at Pitch.

"Are you _seriously_ pretending you're concerned for my safety now?!"

"Jack..."

"No - what is it Pitch? I want to know, are you worried about losing me, your _investment_ , your _property_?" Jack forces as much venom as he can into the words, feeling satisfied as he sees Pitch wince in response.

"I'm trying to do _something_ right," Pitch hisses back. 

Jack lets out a single bitter laugh, shaking his head as he strips off his jumpsuit, flushing as Pitch immediately averts his eyes. 

"Don't bother," Jack snaps, "I already know you're not a good person."

"Jack they've been changing around the guard shift times recently - you can't be _sure_ that what your friends have written down will be the correct ones," Pitch bites out exasperatedly, slamming his book shut and sending a puff of charcoal across his already shadowed face. 

"I trust their judgement more than yours," Jack snorts, "now shut the hell up - I need a good night's sleep."

Pitch's yellow eyes widen then narrow in sequence, "you're attempting this ridiculous 'escape' tomorrow aren't you?"

"It's not any of your business," Jack huffs, using his crutch to lever himself into bed. 

"You can't even walk right now!" Pitch exclaims frustratedly.

"I'm about to walk the fuck out of this cell," Jack growls, making grabbing motions at the top of his crutch that he's leaned up by the head of the bed.

"Fine," Pitch states in a deadened tone, "sleep Jack.  I won't attempt to help you anymore."

"You're the last person I'd want to help me," Jack mutters, but he keeps his voice low to try to disguise the lump forming in his throat as he turns over to face the wall.

 

 

***

 

The next day comes both far too quickly and far too slowly for Jack's liking.  Breakfast is a rushed affair, for no particular reason other than Jack seems to find himself unable to sit still.  His nerves are snaking through him like tendrils of excitement and fear.

The plan is to leave before the prisoners are meant to be thinking about going back to their cells.  It will already be dark outside and easier to conceal themselves if they do make it past the fence, but it's still too early for their absences to be registered on nightly room checks.

Jack notices Bunny and Sandy come into the canteen as he exits it, he gives them both a quick nod before carrying on his way.  The aim for today is not to draw too much attention to themselves. 

He does, however, nearly let out a shriek of surprise as an arm comes out of the side of a corridor to drag him into an alcove just before he can reach the TV room.

"Jamie!" he hisses angrily upon seeing who the arm belongs to.  "Don't _do_ that!"

"Sorry," James smiles ruefully, "I guess I'm a bit tense today."

"Aren't we all?" Jack mutters.

"I just wanted to pass the message on that we're meeting in the second far basement on the laundry level and accessing the tunnels from there." 

"Okay," Jack nods slowly, taking a deep breath to steady himself.  He _hates_ the way the knot in his stomach still tightens at the thought of never seeing Pitch again.  He keeps trying to get his mind to realise that Pitch isn't who he thought he was, the Pitch he doesn't want to leave behind? That guy never even existed.

"You got everything you need?" Jamie asks, shaking Jack from his thoughts.

"Yeah," Jack snorts, "bags all packed and ready to go."

"Great," Jamie grins, "I've taken all our stolen tools down to the tunnel hatch ready, so we should be set up fully down there."

"Okay," Jack nods, chewing his lip absently with nerves.  "I'm just going to go back to my cell to grab something alright?"

"Alright," Jamie frowns at Jack's change of mind as to which direction he's heading in.  "But if you're looking for Pitch - I just saw him in the common room."

"Trust me," Jack sighs, "he is the last person I want to see."

 

Just as he'd hoped, when Jack gets back to his cell, the cold room is empty and still, with no sign of the other occupant.  Jack takes a few tentative steps towards Pitch's side of the room, he hasn't been near Pitch's bed since that night. 

He scans his eyes quickly over Pitch's assorted belonging until he spots what he's looking for.  Leaning on the bed and reaching over to the shelves, Jack grabs the thick black leather bound sketch pad.  He sits heavily on the creaking mattress before opening up the cover, his gaze falling on Pitch's dark and dramatic self portrait.  He frowns before turning the pages again, lifting up each drawing until he reaches the one of him. 

Pitch has evidently been working more on the portrait of Jack, as the ice fortress in the background seems to have grown in size.  White and silver highlights pick out shimmering reflections on the frozen surfaces.  Jack stares down at his own charcoal rendered face, every feature so carefully studied and recreated on the page. 

Jack stretches out his fingers with a sad smile as he spots the latest addition to the scene - a gnarled wooden staff in his right hand.  Pitch was right, it does look good there.

Jack shakes his head with a huff, frustrated at his own sentimentality as he goes to rip the page out from the book.  The paper perforates and tears with an echoing loudness around the room, it's almost enough to make Jack wince.  After removing his own portrait from the sketchpad, he closes it back up and carefully puts it back on the shelf.  For some reason, he just felt like he wanted to take this with him.  By the time Pitch notices, Jack will be long gone anyway. 

 

Lunchtime comes and goes, Jack's appetite, however, remains firmly absent throughout the entire proceedings. 

"If you're going to be sick, go do it now," Bunny growls, leaning over the canteen table to a pale and sweating Jack. 

"I'm fine," Jack retorts with a glare as Bunny lifts up his hands and shrugs at him. 

"Pitch is staring at us again," Jamie announces as the rest of the table turn to look round.  Sure enough, Pitch is sat at the far side of the room, his yellow eyes firmly fixed on Jack's table. 

"Ignore him," Tooth trills, stroking her hair back and looking like she's trying to collect her own nerves. 

Jack frowns as he notices North and Sandy arguing in hushed tones on the other end of the table, he could have sworn he'd heard North say the name "Pitch". 

"Okay, change of plan," Jamie announces, standing suddenly, "it's _me_ that's going to be sick."

Tooth and Jack let out surprised laughs as Jamie rushes away from the table towards the toilets.  Jack's still smiling when he catches Pitch's eyes again across the hall.  Pitch refuses to look away first, his yellow eyes look like the lanterns in his irises have been dimmed.

 

****

 

Jack makes it to the designated meeting place without running into any of the guards or other prisoners.  He is relieved to see that he's the last one to arrive, as that means everyone is accounted for and evidently made it here safely too. 

"You know your part," North says sternly, handing Jack a screwdriver which he'll use to remove some vent panels down in the underground tunnels, allowing them to pass through some of the barriers.  The tool feels heavier than usual in Jack's hand but he still nods back at North firmly before stowing it in his pocket.  The metal rustles against the sketchpad paper of a folded keepsake. 

"We go slow, for Jack to keep up," North commands the others, all their eyes flicking briefly to Jack's crutch. 

"I'll be at the front of the line," Bunny announces, "North and Sandy are heading up the rear." 

Everyone looks at each other in tense silence for a moment before North lets out a bellowing snort, "Well what the hell are we waiting for then?"

"It's okay, guards aren't due down here for another twenty minutes," Tooth nods.

"I - " Jack bites his lip, wondering if he should share Pitch's doubts about the duty timings with them.  "I heard that the roster's changed recently - so maybe we shouldn't take those changeover times for granted?"

"Who'd you hear that from?" Bunny grunts, narrowing his eyes, "I haven't gotten that information."

"Someone who knows a guard," Jack shrugs as the others look at him curiously.

"Either way let's get going and stop all this time-wasting chit chat!" North huffs, reaching down to open the previously sealed hatch that leads to the tunnels via a ladder that Bunny constructed. 

"You alright to get down it?" Jamie asks as Bunny disappears through the hole and Jack hitches his crutch up to stop it getting in the way.

"No problem," Jack grins, bolder than he feels, "if I fall I can just land on Bunny."

Jamie laughs as Jack hears an indignant muttering from down below them.

 

By the time all of them are safely down in the tunnel system and have made it through the first couple of stretches of waterworks, Jack is starting to feel positively optimistic about the whole endeavour.  His screwdriver isn't needed for a while yet so he lets Tooth and Jamie walk in front of him, so that they aren't so delayed by his hobbling.  North and Sandy are quite a few steps behind anyway, they seem to be having another argument.  Jack pauses along a particularly damp and shadowed stretch of the tunnel, feigning fixing something with his crutch. 

"It's for his own good," North grumbles, the words bounce off the brick walls of the passageway, reaching back to Jack's attentive ears. 

"Don't give me that Sandy," North groans a moment later, "people don't change, at least not _that_ much!"

Jack frowns, wondering who on Earth they could be talking about and why it's so important to discuss it now, during their _escape_?

"Jack's a good kid, he's better off without Pitch," North snaps finally.  The words slice through Jack like pinpricks of uncomfortable heat, making him itch and flinch.  He realises he's frozen to the spot, with North and Sandy quickly coming up behind him, evidently not having noticed him in the darkness yet. 

"You know as well as I do that if the Black Sand had been dangled right in front of Pitch he wouldn't have had a second thought about selling Jack like a slave! I don't care what he said to you about - _oomph_!"

Jack winces as North manages to run straight into the back of him, nearly sending Jack spinning forwards if it hadn't been for the crutch stabilising them both. 

"Jack?!" North announces, peering into the shadows with a confused expression.  "You okay? Why are you so far behind?"

"Why are you?" Jack says coldly.

"I-" North falters, "I had something important to discuss with Sandy - a certain matter to be well and truly settled before we made it out of here."

"Pitch," Jack replies, blinking back at the two shocked faces he gets in response. 

"Jack..." North murmurs, "Pitch...Pitch is..."

"What did he say to Sandy?" Jack interrupts, feeling a cool collected numbness drizzle through him. 

North sighs, rubbing his face before replying, "We know about the proposed deal - with the Black Sand and Pitch.  We know because the day after he'd received the offer, Pitch came to Sandy to warn him that Black Sand was being reintroduced into the prison by the gangs and that it might affect his Golden Sand business."

"Why did he do that?" Jack asks numbly.

"He," North pauses before swallowing hard, "he wanted to make deal with _us_.  Pitch, Sandy and I would look out for you together, make sure nobody tried anything again, at least until we could get you out of here or figure something more permanent out."

Jack opens his mouth to gape at North for a moment before wheeling on Sandy who nods with a sympathetic expression.

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?!" Jack exclaims, he can hear noises up ahead, the others must have noticed the three of them hadn't caught up.

"Because Sandy knows as well as I do that Pitch only really told us because he was scared he couldn't control himself!" North shouts.  "He _knew_ he'd sell you out if that Sand reached the prison so he came to us to help him...well, to help him stop himself."  North lets out an anguished noise, placing his large hands over his face.  "We were worried that if we told you, you'd see Pitch in a different light and you might even want to stay in the prison - we know it was him that gave you the bites around your neck."

Jack flushes horribly, turning his head away as his anger builds until bubbling over.

"I'm going back," Jack snaps, making to push past North, who reaches out to stop him.

"Jack please, you don't belong in a place like that - we just wanted to make sure you got out safely."

"I know," Jack nods, "but there's still time for me to go back for Pitch."

"He won't come," North shakes his head sadly, "Jack don't give up your one shot at freedom." 

"You don't understand," Jack replies, his voice lowered to a painful whisper, "I told him I _hated_ him, that I didn't want him anywhere near me..."

"You guys alright back there?" Jack hears Jamie call out from up ahead in the tunnel.  The momentary distraction allows Jack the time to slip through North and Sandy and start striding in the other direction.  He can hear them shouting behind him but he's worked out a way to move quickly, using his staff to swing himself along in lieu of a working leg.  His other hand is slammed tightly up against the wall to allow himself to progress without falling to one side.  He quickly pulls the vital screwdriver out of his pocket and drops it behind him where the others will be able to collect it and still make it out

"Jack!"

Jack winces as he hears Jamie's calling for him, he knows they can't risk following him back, not if they don't want to get caught by the guards.  They weren't sure about the changeover times as it is. 

He's just rounding the corner when he hears a pair of voices that makes his blood run cold.  Jack freezes, ramming himself up against the gritty surface of the wall, trying to work out how long until the guards appear where he is. 

They _had_ got the times wrong, the guards weren't due in this part of the prison for another ten minutes.  Jack curses himself, knocking his head back against the brick and wondering what they'll do when they catch him? If he could _somehow_ get away?

"They've gone this way!" a guard announces triumphantly, evidently having spotted a footprint in the dampened earth.  "Get your gun out."

Jack's mouth falls open, he hadn't even thought about the guards' weapons, but of course they're going to try and shoot escaping prisoners.  He tries to swallow but finds his throat too dry and constricted to allow the movement. 

Suddenly a large dark figure hurries around the corner, making Jack cry out in shock and fear.  The man wheels on him with yellowed eyes.

" _Pitch_?!" Jack exclaims. 

"Shh," Pitch hisses, throwing his cold hand over Jack's mouth and forcing them both back against the wall. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jack whispers, his eyes wide and afraid.  Pitch stares at Jack for a moment, studying his face before replying, "I saw the guards coming down here, I knew you idiots hadn't gotten the times right on that stupid plan of yours," Pitch grunts back.

"You - you came to try and warn us?" Jack asks feeling shell-shocked. 

"Yes," Pitch sighs, pausing momentarily as the voices of the guards starts up again.  Jack must have guessed wrong about which tunnel the guards were in, they're actually further away than he'd realised but the echoes in the passageways carry.  "I got Onyx to distract the guards whilst I slipped in front of them," Pitch stops, his face scrunching up into a frown, "why are you alone though? And why the _hell_ are you going back towards the prison?"

"I-" Jack stammers, "I was coming back for you..."

Pitch's expression of complete bewilderment almost makes Jack want to smile, that is until he _distinctly_ hears footsteps approaching from one of the other tunnels. 

"Fuck - the guards," Jack says quickly, grabbing Pitch's hand and pulling him down the tunnel, "we have to get moving!"

"They'll hear us and we won't be able to outrun them," Pitch replies, nodding to Jack's crutch. 

"We - _fuck_ -" Jack bites off his sentence as a fully uniformed and angry looking guard comes charging round the corner. 

"I've got them!" he screams back, presumably to the other guard, as he raises his gun and points it towards Pitch and Jack. 

"Take it easy Dalton," Pitch murmurs to the guard, who he obviously recognizes, "lower the gun now,"

"Don't give me orders Pitch!" the guard snaps furiously, thrusting his gun forwards even more.  The movement makes Jack shy backwards, however his foot slips on a pile of loose rubble and he feels himself trip.

The outraged cry of the guard - evidently having mistaken Jack's movement for trying to run away, is followed by the worst sound Jack's ever heard in his life. 

The gunshot rings out through the passageways causing all other sounds to pale in its wake.  The deathly silence afterwards is only interrupted by Jack's scream of horror as he realises Pitch jumped in front of him.  

At first time slows down, and then it speeds up.  Jack barely registers the distant blurs of North and Bunny hurtling past him as Jamie's hands come down on his shoulders heaving him up. 

"Guards caught up with us," Jack manages to choke out as Jamie spins him round to inspect him for any sign of bullet related damage. 

"North and Bunny have taken care of the guards," Jamie replies, although whether it's a moment or several minutes later, Jack can't even tell.  "The first idiot was so shocked at having fired, he dropped his own gun!"

"Pitch," Jack whines, scrabbling against Jamie's chest to try and turn round and see the man in question, "he got shot!"

"I think he's going to make it,"

Jack jumps at Tooth's statement, jerking round to see her leaning over Pitch, drawing something battered and blood stained out from under his jumpsuit. 

"Sketchpad," she gulps, holding it up so everyone can see, "It was in his breast pocket - mostly stopped the bullet." 

"Oh thank fuck," Jack rasps hoarsely as he feels tears spilling down his cheeks.  A moment later he can feel Bunny pulling at his arms, "Come on kid - I'll carry you."

"No!" Jack shrieks, batting his friend away, "I'm not leaving Pitch behind!"

"I've got Pitch," North growls, stooping down to hoist the tall dark man over his shoulder, blood running down the two of them in rivulet stains. 

"Now go!" North shouts.  "We're _all_ getting out of here."

 

 

 

*** *** ***

 

 

Pitch's first thought upon opening his eyes is that he died and somehow St. Peter mixed up the records and mistakenly let him in through the pearly gates. 

"Jack," he croaks hoarsely, before suddenly feeling a water glass pressed gently against his lips. 

"Shh," comes a voice, "just drink."

Pitch takes a few sips before needing to cough and sit up further.  His entire body feels alight with pain and his headache is phenomenal.

"It's me," the familiar voice whispers in his ear, like a cooling balm to the heat of Pitch's head.  Pitch creaks his neck, turning to face a white blonde figure in a blue t-shirt. 

" _Jack_..."

"Yeah," Jack grins ruefully, "that'd be me.  Don't try to move too much okay?"

"What happened?" Pitch frowns, ignoring Jack's advice and hauling himself up anyway, surprised to find himself on a large bed covered in expensive looking silk sheets.  "Where are we?"

"The Island Of The Sleepy Sands," Jack announces with an exaggerated gesture.  He rolls his eyes, "I know - pretentious right? I tried telling Sandy that but would he listen?"

"S-Sandy?" Pitch is now not sure whether he's woken up at all or if he's stuck in his own surreal dream. 

"Oh yeah," Jack smiles bashfully, a blue flush appearing high on his cheeks, "I kinda forgot to mention - this is Sandy's own island.  He is _loaded_.  We got here by a private plane after the escape.  I mean you desperately needed medical attention and Sandy said he could make it happen and you and I could recuperate here."

"We... _escaped_?" Pitch's voice breaks on the second word, not quite believing his own ears or voice.

"Yeah," Jack nods softly, his voice turning more serious, "thanks to you."

Pitch stares back at Jack in stunned silence, which seems to have the effect of making the boy blush even more, averting his eyes and moving to rub the back of his neck. "Um," Jack swallows, "so we also have new identities now too? Sandy's been great - he's gotten us all the papers and even worked out how to get your pre-existing funds from The Nightmare King into your new accounts and yeah....here..." Jack thrusts a passport towards Pitch who takes it, flipping it open to the details page.

" _Kozmotis_?" Pitch asks in surprise, his eyebrows travelling up his brow.

"Yeah," Jack shifts awkwardly, "well I mean I wanted to choose something unusual."

"I like it," Pitch smiles, revealing his teeth and causing Jack to let out a pure crystal laugh. 

"Good - because you're stuck with it," Jack grins. 

"And you?" Pitch asks with a forced air of being casual, when in reality his heart is beating a million beats per second.  "Am I stuck with you?"

Jack looks anxious for a moment before shrugging, "I guess so, I mean, if that's cool - I - "

"Come here," Pitch growls, reaching out to drag a laughing and screeching Jack into the bed. 

"Stop that!" Jack yelps.  "You're going to tear your stitches!"

It's at that moment that Sandy appears with a tray carrying two cups of steaming tea, he rolls his eyes but sighs with a smile as he sees Pitch and Jack together in the bed. 

"Tea?!" Jack exclaims with a look of horror on his face, "Sandy it's like 500 degrees outside here! You're trying to melt me!"

Sandy merely chuckles, shaking his head as he deposits the tea and leaves the room with a wave of his hand.

"I'm telling you," Jack mutters, "I _cannot_ live in a place this hot for longer than I have to."

"I suppose we'll have to find somewhere cold then won't we?" Pitch smiles, ducking down to kiss the top of Jack's head. 

 

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

"We've got another postcard!" Jack announces excitedly as he barges into the studio, waving a rectangular scene with some kind of incredible misty and mountainous scene on it.

"From Tooth?" Pitch asks with an eyebrow raised, a crooked smile on his face as he closes his sketchbook up before Jack can sneak a peek.

"Hey!" Jack laughs, "Come on, I wasn't even _trying_ to look this time!"

"You're always trying Jack, it's one of your more endearing qualities," Pitch hisses as he gestures for Jack to stick the postcard up along with all the others they regularly receive. 

"There's still some space here on this wall," Jack announces, his tongue stuck out between his teeth in an expression of determined concentration as he tacks the postcard up next to a snowy Russian looking landscape and one on the other side from Pennsylvania, USA. 

"It's cool," Jack nods, "they all seem so settled where they are." 

"Is that a complaint Jack?" Pitch snorts, it's not exactly a secret that the two of them get itchy feet nearly every year and have to move on.  It's just fortunate they've got the pre-advanced funds from Pitch's new project to fund their lifestyle. 

"Nah," Jack grins, "I like moving about, it means we get the best of everywhere!"

"Beautiful spirits aren't meant to be caged," Pitch shrugs, smiling as Jack flushes red and rolls his eyes. 

"So...when _are_ you going to let me see this new novel?" Jack asks, a look of cocky hope in his big blue eyes.  "Come on Pitch - you've been working on it for _ages_ and I _know_ I'm in it."

"Oh you 'know' do you?" Pitch raises his eyebrows, smirking as Jack pulls a face at him. 

"You will see Rise Of The Guardians when it's finished," Pitch replies with a sigh.

"Everyone's in it aren't they?" Jack asks quickly with an enthusiastic tone, "I mean - you've made us all Guardians right?!"

"Something like that," Pitch laughs, "but every story has to have a baddie."

"I still can't believe you've made us fight in the story!" Jack scowls.

"We fight every day," Pitch shrugs, getting up off of his chair and stretching.  His bones click disturbingly, showing him just how much time he's spent hunched over in the studio this week - attempting to put the finishing touches on the final manuscript whilst Jack unpacks moving boxes.

"Yeah but we make up afterwards," Jack replies pointedly before grinning and blushing with his teeth hooked over his lower lip.

"That is my favourite part," Pitch laughs.

"Maybe," Jack cocks his head, "maybe today we could skip the bickering and go straight to the 'making up'?"

"How could I possibly refuse?" Pitch replies with a predatory smile, stalking towards Jack.

"We still need to send everyone a postcard from here though," Jack laughs as Pitch attempts to lean down and press their lips together.

"Later," Pitch growls, "we've barely had time to move in yet."

"The bedroom's all set up," Jack smirks shyly.

"How convenient," Pitch chuckles, wrapping his arms around the younger man and bringing their bodies close together, relishing the friction of the hot and cold, the light and the dark.

The perfect partnership.    

   

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I very much hope that you enjoyed it.


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